GUSTAV  FREN5SEN. 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 
PROF.  VICTOR  A.  OSWALD 


HOLYLAND 


HOLYLAND 

Exclusive  Authorized  'Translation  of 
"HiWgenlei" 


BY    GUSTAV    FRENSSEN 

Author  of  "  Jorn  Uhl  " 

STranulatrt  from  tfje  ffictman 

BY 
MARY  AGNES    HAMILTON 


BOSTON 
THE   PAGE   COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


ENGLISH  VERSION 

Copyright,  Sept.  13,  rgo6 
BY  DANA  ESTES  &  COMPANY 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall 


All  rights  reserved 


GERMAN   VERSION 
Published,  Nov.  6,  1905 

Privilege   of  copyright   in   the   United    States 
reserved  under  the  act  approved  March  3,  1905 

BY  G.  GROTE'SCHE  VERLAGSBUCHHANDLUNG 


COLONIAL   PRESS 

Eltctretyped  and  Printed  by  C.  H.  Sitnonds  &  Co. 
Boston,  U.S.  A, 


TT 


691341 


CHIEF   CHARACTERS 


Tjark   Dusenschon  —  Left-handed   descendant  of    a   prince's   son, 
brought  up  by  his  grandmother, 

Stiena  Dusenschon. 

Kai  Jans  —  Eldest  son  of 

Thomas  Jans  —  A  navvy,  formerly  on  the  lightship. 

Pe  Ontjes  Lau  —  Son  of  the  harbourmaster;  marries 

Anna  Boje  —  Eldest  daughter  of 

William  Boje  —  Teacher,  and 

Hella  —  His  wife. 

Pete  and  Hett —  Anna's  brothers. 

Heinke  —  Her  sister  (eight  years  younger). 

Kassen    Wedderkopp  —  An  old  civil  servant  living   in  Hilligenlei; 
formerly  a  journalist. 

Heine  Wulk  —  Editor  of  the  newspaper. 
Daniel  Peters  —  Mayor  of  the  town. 

Peter  Volquardsen  —  A  young  teacher  at  the  grammar  school ;  mar- 
ries  Heinke. 


HOLYLAND 


CHAPTER   I. 

HALF  asleep  and  dissatisfied,  many  people  merely  drag 
themselves  through  life;  they  never  really  live;  they  are  a 
burden  to  those  about  them.  Who  cares  for  their  story? 

There  are  others  whose  childish  eyes  are  full  of  wonder, 
who  dimly  feel,  as  boys,  that  great  things  are  reserved  for 
them,  and  go  out  into  life  with  unclouded  spirits.  It  would 
be  worth  while  to  tell  their  story.  Never  mind;  it  does  not 
come  to  much,  after  all.  What  do  these  people  make  of  their 
lives?  They  devote  themselves  to  the  pursuit  of  wealth  and 
outward  honour  and  such  illusions;  they  run,  they  stumble, 
they  fail  to  find  what  they  seek,  and  so  stumble  into  their 
graves.  It  is  a  weariness  to  write  their  story;  one's  hair  grows 
grey  in  the  telling.  Not  that  we  expect  the  superhuman  — 
that  people  should  set  out  to  find  a  kingly  crown  —  no ;  let 
them  only,  while  pursuing  their  illusions,  have  some  hope  of 
finding  in  the  next  field  a  troop  of  angels  instead  of  a  herd 
of  asses:  some  vague  idea  that  there,  under  the  oak  tree  at  the 
next  turn  of  the  road,  the  Eternal  may  be  standing  with  the 
thousand  riddles  of  the  world  in  His  sacred  hands,  ready  to 
tell  them  the  answer  to  some.  We  do  ask  this;  without  this 
a  man  is  incomplete. 

And  so,  my  troubled,  courageous  soul,  tell  the  story  of  one 
who  sought  for  holiness  full  of  unrest,  full  of  hope. 

With  the  coming  of  the  dusk  the  storm  cast  itself  more 
fiercely  upon  the  sea,  striking  with  its  strength  the  grey  waste 
of  desolate  waters  far  and  wide.  From  Iceland  to  the  Scotch 

ii 


12  HOLYLAND 

coast,  and  from  there  right  over  to  Norway,  the  grey,  foam- 
ing waves  came  heavily  on  a  hundred  miles  across,  with  end- 
less roar  and  rush,  on  to  the  Holstein  coast.  There  in  the 
dread  darkness  at  the  entrance  of  the  bay  lay  the  squat  red 
lightship  swinging  heavily  backwards  and  forwards  on  its 
chain,  swaying  its  radiant  lamp.  Over  the  blackness  of  the 
angry  ocean  its  light  flickered  restlessly.  The  wind  tore  and 
whistled  in  the  rigging.  Howling  and  swelling  storm  and 
sea  rushed  past  the  lightship,  roared  into  the  wide,  grey  bay, 
forced  their  way  up  the  narrow  harbour  into  the  little  town 
called  Hilligenlei.  Then  indeed  the  storm,  as  if  exulting  in 
its  freedom  from  the  sea,  which  had  hung  at  its  heels  all  the 
way  from  Iceland,  dashed  itself,  wild  and  surging,  against 
the  first  obstacle  it  met,  a  long,  low,  thatched  roof  standing 
high  upon  the  beach  at  the  top  of  the  harbour  stream.  It 
dashed  against  the  roof  and  struck  the  five  chimneys  with 
might  and  main;  it  leapt  round  the  house  and  tore  at  the  five 
doors  and  at  the  windows. 

In  the  furthest  room  sat  Rieke  Thomson,  the  midwife,  in 
her  comfortable  armchair:  feet  on  the  foot-warmer,  hands 
resting  on  her  portly  body,  coffee-pot  ready  on  the  table,  she 
was  waiting  peacefully.  She  sat  there  looking  down  the  street, 
only  turning  her  big  head  from  time  to  time  to  look  through 
a  little  square  window  that  she  herself  had  had  made  at  the 
side,  across  the  bay  to  see  whether  there  were  any  sign  from 
Friestadt.  It  was  the  time-honoured  duty  of  the  Friestadt 
schoolmaster,  who  lived  on  the  dyke  opposite,  to  put  a  white 
cloth  on  the  dark,  thatched  roof  in  the  day-time  and  a  light 
in  the  school-room  window  at  night  that  could  be  seen  from 
Hilligenlei  whenever  a  woman  was  in  labour.  This  stormy 
evening,  however,  it  was  only  the  force  of  habit  that  made 
her  turn  her  heavy  head.  As  far  as  any  news  she  had  heard, 
there  could  be  no  message  from  Friestadt.  It  was  across  to 
the  house  of  Harbourmaster  Lau  that  she  looked.  His  wife's 
time  must  come  to-night,  she  thought.  But  the  harbour- 
master's door  remained  tight  shut. 

Then  she  began  to  be  sorry  for  herself,  a  lonely,  neglected 
female,  although  in  the  course  of  the  day  she  had  had  seven 
visitors.  Six  old  women  had  come  to  gossip.  One  young 
one  wanted  to  know  from  the  cards  when  she  should  be  a 
mother  again.  Tired  of  being  alone,  she  bent  indolently  to 


HOLYLAND  13 

pick  up  the  wooden  shoe  that  lay  by  the  fireside,  and  threw 
it,  with  a  slow  swing  of  her  arm,  against  the  door.  In  came 
old  Hule  Beiderwand,  who  lived  in  the  next  room.  In  spite 
of  his  sixty  years,  he  carried  himself  as  upright  as  in  his  youth, 
when  he  was  mounted  orderly  between  Kiel  and  Gottorp; 
but  his  straight  bearing  was  not  only  due  to  the  proud  build 
of  his  body;  far  more  to  the  lovely  light  that  shone  within 
his  soul. 

Round  about  the  bay  of  Hilligenlei,  at  the  foot  and  under 
the  shade  of  the  great  sea  dyke,  clustered  many  little  houses, 
in  which  dwelt  labourers,  fishermen,  and  small  farmers. 
These  people,  living  extraordinarily  lonely  lives  in  their  dark, 
low-roofed  rooms,  far  away  from  the  church,  had  from  long 
time  past  brooded  over  a  peculiar  faith.  They  called  them- 
selves "  Holyland  men,"  and  lived  in  the  belief  that  the  little 
town  of  Hilligenlei  and  the  country  round  the  bay  would  be 
one  day  a  real  Hilligenlei,  i.  e,,  Holyland.  They  looked  for 
the  Kingdom  of  God  in  the  bay.  The  secret  leader,  and,  in- 
deed, the  last  of  the  faithful  —  for  the  faith  was  dying  out  — 
was  Hule  Beiderwand.  In  his  life  he  had  watched  many 
nights  by  sick-beds,  and  thus  acquired  the  habit  of  standing 
by  the  window  and  looking  out  into  the  night.  Now,  with 
his  slow,  stiff  gait,  he  went  to  the  little  window  that  looked 
out  over  the  bay.  Lost  in  thought,  he  gazed  out  into  the  dark- 
ness and  listened  to  the  song  of  the  storm. 

"  It's  too  bad,"  said  Rieke,  "  that  I  have  got  to  sit  here 
like  this,  a  lonely  old  woman  like  me.  And  if  a  man  does 
come  he  stands  there  mum  like  a  stock!" 

;'  There  is  a  light,"  said  the  old  man. 

"What?"  she  cried,  starting  up  in  her  chair,  and  look- 
ing out.  There  in  the  distance  the  clear  light  shone  calm 
and  distinct.  "In  Friestadt!  What  is  it,  Hule?" 

"  I  think  I  know,"  said  the  old  man.  "  A  fortnight  ago 
Lisa  Dusenschon  was  here  —  in  the  dusk,  like  this." 

Rieke,  with  her  hands  on  her  knees,  looked  at  Hule  out 
of  her  big,  round  eyes.  "  Lisa  Dusenschon?  That's  Stiena's 
daughter,  who  lives  near  us  in  the  long  house?  in  service 
with  the  Reimars  in  Friestadt?" 

"If  you  know  no  other  woman  in  Friestadt  for  whom  the 
light  has  been  set  out, '  it  is  Lisa.  She  asked  for  her  mother : 
she  was  away;  then  for  you,  and  you  weren't  there  either; 


I4  HOLYLAND 

then  she  went  away  again.  Now  that  I  see  the  light  I  imag- 
ine that  she  had  something  important  to  'say." 

"  Well,"  said  Rieke,  pressing  her  hands  against  the  arms 
of  her  chair  as  if  to  get  up,  "  then  I  must  go  to  Friestadt  in 
all  this  weather!  " 

She  had  not  yet  risen,  when  the  storm  seized  the  outer 
door  and  dashed  it  against  the  wall.  There  on  the  threshold 
stood  Lisa,  strong  and  broad,  her  ruddy  fair  hair  hanging 
wet  about  her  ears,  deathly  exhaustion  on  her  white  face, 
horror  in  her  deep-set  eyes. 

"The  farmer  has  turned  me  out;  my  mother  is  not  at 
home." 

Rieke  hobbled  out  of  the  chair  and  took  hold  of  her,  led 
her  up  three  steps  to  the  inner  room,  and  laid  her  down  on 
the  bed. 

"  Well,  I  never,"  she  said.  "  Never  in  my  life  have  I 
had  such  a  fright !  " 

"  Rieke,  I  lay  down  in  the  mud  fifty  times.  I  doubled 
up  like  a  worm.  I  wanted  to  take  hold,  but  I  couldn't." 
She  breathed  deep.  "  Oh,  now  it  is  easier.  Hasn't  mother 
come  yet  ?  " 

"She  will  be  here  directly.  Hark!  that's  the  door.  Yes, 
here  she  is."  Stiena  Dusenschon  was  dressed  in  the  attire 
she  always  donned  for  visiting.  On  her  head  was  the  dingy- 
black  state  bonnet,  round  her  thin  'shoulders  the  old-fash- 
ioned black  mantle  with  bead  fringe  that  the  clergyman's 
wife  had  given  her.  Her  long  bonnet  strings  hanging  down 
in  front  trembled,  and  the  bead  fringe  jumped  up  and  down 
in  her  excitement.  She  passed  her  hands  over  her  head  again 
and  again  in  a  troubled  manner.  "  Oh,  my  child,  my  child," 
she  cried,  "why  have  you  done  this?" 

"  Woman,"  said  Rieke,  "  do  not  for  any  sake  get  into  a 
state.  Were  you  any  better  in  your  young  days?  Why  has 
she  done  it?  Either  because  some  one  got  the  better  of  her 
or  because  her  own  nature  drove  her  to  it.  That's  why." 

Stiena  had  sat  down  at  the  edge  of  the  bed  gasping  for 
breath.  "  My  child,  my  child,  who  is  the  father?  Only 
tell  your  old  mother  who  the  father  is." 

"  Stop  your  questions,"  said  Rieke.  "  Go  and  fetch  little 
Tina  Rauh  to  help  us  and  make  some  coffee.  We  shall  need 
half  the  night  for  this." 


HOLYLAND  15 

Stiena  was  a  trifle  offended.  However,  she  got  up  from 
the  bed,  and,  going  out,  returned  with  the  little  Rauh  girl, 
one  of  the  family  living  in  the  harbour  street,  all  of  whom 
have  curly  fair  hair  and  somewhat  wandering  wits.  Then 
she  went  straight  to  her  daughter's  bed.  She  lay  groaning 
heavily,  her  distorted  face  against  the  coverlet.  "  Oh,  my 
child,  tell  me;  is  it  some  rich  farmer's  son?  or  a  strange 
gentleman?  or,  oh!  is  it  a  nobleman?" 

"A  nobleman,  indeed!"  said  Rieke,  shaking  her  great, 
round  head.  "  Be  glad  if  it's  a  good,  honest  fellow  who 
will  acknowledge  mother  and  child.  Come,  we'll  have  a 
cosy  cup  of  coffee.  It's  not  a  dream,  is  it  now,  that  you're 
to  be  a  grandmother  to-day?  Come,  sit  down." 

Just  as  Tina  lifted  up  the  can  to  pour  out,  Lisa  gave  a 
loud  cry  from  the  inner  room.  The  girl  put  the  can  noisily 
down  on  the  table,  and  was  on  the  point  of  running  away. 

"Oh,  dear.     I  must  run  home  to  mother!" 

Rieke,  however,  took  hold  of  her  by  the  neck.  "  You 
stay  here  at  the  table,  and  mind  you  don't  stir.  Come, 
Stiena,"  and  they  went  in  to  help  the  moaning  woman. 

The  little  girl  sat  huddled  up  at  the  table  as  if  she  were 
fastened  there.  When  Lisa  cried  out  she  drove  both  hands 
into  her  tousled  hair;  when  the  cry  was  louder  she  held  her 
ears.  When  it  got  quieter  within  she  cautiously  straightened 
out  her  neck  and  laughed.  So  she  stayed  for  two  long  hours, 
till  a  soft,  distant  weeping  came,  as  if  from  far  away,  from 
the  inner  room.  Then  she  bowed  her  head  on  the  table  and 
wept  miserably. 

"  Well,  that  really  breaks  one's  back,"  said  Rieke,  coming 
down  into  the  room.  "  Come,  let's  have  our  coffee."  She 
sat  down  heavily  in  the  big  armchair  and  looked  at  Tina. 
"  You  go  now  and  sit  up  there  and  listen  if  Lisa  is  asleep 
or  calls  out  or  anything,  and  don't  stir  from  there.  Come 
now,  Stiena,  sit  down  and  make  yourself  cosy." 

"  Who  can  the  father  be  ? "  said  Stiena,  smiling  at  her 
happy  thoughts,  and  turning  about  on  her  chair  as  if  to  the 
strains  of  a  slow  waltz.  "  Assuredly  a  farmer's  son,  most 
assuredly ;  and,  better  still  —  and,  Rieke,  think  of  its  being 
a  boy.  That  makes  me  so  awfully  happy.  The  Dusen- 
schons  have  been  girls  for  a  hundred  years  back,  but  now — 
it's  a  boy  I  " 


16  HOLYLAND 

"  You  really  might  tell  me,"  said  Rieke  Thomson,  filling 
her  cup,  "  the  true  story  of  your  Dusenschons;  but  mind 
you  don't  exaggerate;  in  my  old  age  I  don't  want  any  lies 
told  me.  Drink  your  coffee." 

Stiena  drank,  and,  putting  down  her  cup,  swayed  for  awhile 
to  the  joyous  music  within  her,  with  a  sweet,  thoughtful 
smile,  her  bonnet  strings  swaying  and  the  bead  fringe  wav- 
ing this  way  and  that.  "  Ah,"  she  said,  "  that  is  a  story,  in- 
deed. Look  here.  It  began  a  hundred  years  ago  or  more. 
Then  my  great  grandfather  was  mayor  here  in  Hilligenlei 
and  called  von  Dusenschon.  He  lived  quite '  alone  with  his 
six  daughters.  He  did  not  allow  the  young  men  of  the  town 
to  come  near  them,  for  he  hoped  '  that  noblemen  and  officers 
would  come  and  fetch  them  away  one  after  the  other,  for 
they  were  all  very  beautiful.  He  did  not  trouble  over  their 
growing  older  and  older  till  the  two  eldest  were  really 
withered.  He  was  a  hard  man,  and  it  never  entered  his 
head  that  every  created  thing  will  have  its  rights.  Well,  one 
fine  day  he  heard  that  the  king's  son  was  passing  through 
Hilligenlei  incognito,  with  only  a  few  companions,  and  wanted 
to  spend  the  night  at  his  house,  he  being  mayor.  So  he  in- 
formed his  daughters. 

Little  Tina  craned  her  neck  to  see  mother  and  child.  In 
doing  so  she  moved  the  door,  which  gave  a  short,  sharp 
creak.  Rieke  Thomson  looked  up.  "  Does  Lisa  want  any- 
thing?" 

"  No,"  said  the  little  girl ;  "  she  looks  as  red  as  an  apple 
on  a  tree." 

"  We're  just  coming,"  said  Stiena,  nodding  lovingly  to- 
wards the  bedroom.  "  One  more  cup,  please,  Rieke." 

''  There  you  are,  Stiena.     Go  on  with  your  story." 

"  When  the  mayor's  three  elder  daughters  were  going  to 
bed  that  night  the  eldest  said  that  the  visit  was  a  great 
honour,  the  second  that  they  must  put  out  the  damask  table 
linen,  and  the  third  that  she  should  put  on  her  blue  silk 
gown.  But  the  three  younger  sisters  reflected  on  the  mean- 
ing of  love.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  did  that  every  evening, 
but  more  so  this  evening  than  usual.  The  eldest  combed  her 
hair  and  drew  up  her  full  figure  in  front  of  the  mirror  and 
thought,  '  He  is  eight-and-twenty  and  handsome.  How  stupid 
that  a  king's  son  may  only  woo  a  king's  daughter.'  The 


HOLYLAND  17 

second  sat  on  the  edge  of  her  bed  in  her  wide,  white  night- 
gown, and  bent  down  her  head  till  she  could  see  the  whole 
of  her  beautiful  body  from  neck  to  knee,  and  thought,  should 
she  be  wrinkled  and  spotty  and  shrunk  like  her  eldest  sister 
in  ten  years'  time?  She  shuddered  at  the  thought,  and  hardly 
knew  what  to  think  of  the  world.  So  she  lay  down  and  slept. 
The  third,  the  youngest  of  all,  was  Susie,  and  she  was  one- 
and-twenty.  She  lay  full  length  on  her  back,  her  two  hands 
in  her  thick,  golden-brown  hair,  in  bitter  trouble.  In  the 
summer  she  had  gone  over  a  great  deal  to  the  old  clergy- 
man's wife,  who  lived  near  the  churchyard.  There  she  had 
lain  on  the  grass  in  the  garden  under  a  hazel  bush  with  the 
son,  a  student,  while  he  whistled  like  a  chaffinch  and  told 
her  how  the  hazel  blossomed  and  made  a  wedding-feast,  and 
he  kissed  her  and  went  away.  Since  then  she  had  silently 
fought  a  fierce  fight  against  God  and  man,  thinking,  with 
bitter  resentment  in  her  heart,  '  The  Holy  Trinity  and  the 
world  are  wronging  me  hideously.'  And  this  evening  her 
misery  was  acute,  for  her  father  had  privately  said  to  her, 
'  I  want  the  prince  to  remember  our  house  with  particular 
pleasure  so  that  by  his  help  I  may  get  promotion  to  the  cap- 
ital and  a  better  post.  I  know  he  likes  beautiful,  clever 
women.  You  are  the  cleverest  and  the  most  beautiful.  To- 
morrow evening  you  shall  sit  by  him.'  Therefore,  as  she  lay 
full  length  in  bed  she  resolved,  '  If  he  chooses  he  shall  tell  me 
all  the  things  I  don't  know  and  want  to  know.'  " 

Tina  craned  her  neck  to  see  the  mother  and  child.  In 
doing  so  she  moved  the  door,  and  it  gave  a  short,  sharp 
creak. 

Rieke  looked  up.     "  Does  Lisa  want  anything?  " 
"  No,"  said  the  girl,  "  but  she's  as  white  as  chalk." 
"  We're  just  coming,"  said   Stiena,   nodding  her  head  lov- 
ingly towards   the  bedroom.     "  I'll   get   to   the   end   quickly. 
One  more  cup,  please,  Rieke." 

Rieke  poured  it  out.  Hule  Beiderwand  came  in  again 
and  took  up  his  usual  position  at  the  window  without  saying 
anything.  "  Drink  it  off  and  go  on  with  your  story." 

"  The  next  day  the  prince  came,  and  in  the  evening  he 
sat  next  to  Susie  and  found  her  charming.  As  sure  as  she 
laughed  at  what  he  said  he  bowed  and  looked  quite  serious. 
As  sure  as  she  was  quiet  and  serious  he  laughed  and  gave  her 


18  HOLYLAND 

more  wine.  When  they  got  up  he  gave  her  his  hand  and 
whispered  a  few  words.  Her  sisters  thought  it  some  compli- 
ment, but  he  had  said  a  bad  word  to  her.  When  all  in  the 
house  were  gone  to  bed  she  slipped  secretly  out  of  her  room 
and  downstairs.  The  next  morning  the  eldest  sister  found 
her  sitting  in  the  arbour,  her  hands  pressed  together  on  her 
lap,  staring  at  the  ground  in  front  of  her.  The  prince  rode 
away.  She  waited  for  a  letter  or  a  message,  but  none  came. 
Then  she  advised  her  two  younger  sisters  to  rebel  against 
their  father  and  marry  some  simple  tradesman.  She  went 
secretly  to  Hamburg,  where  she  lived  with  simple  folk,  and 
made  a  hard  living  by  sewing,  and  gave  birth  to  a  girl.  For 
eight  or  nine  years  she  lived  with  these  people,  some  say 
quietly  and  alone,  happy  with  her  little  girl;  others  say  vis- 
ited from  time  to  time  by  officers.  Anyhow,  she  died  young. 
The  ten-year-old  girl  was  sent  first  to  Hilligenlei,  but  by 
that  time  the  mayor  was  dead.  They  sent  her  to  the  five 
sisters,  but  they  had  entered  a  superior  cloister,  where  they 
made  crochet  table-covers.  Their  sister's  child  horrified  them. 
Comforted  by  the  parson,  they  despatched  her  back  to  Hilli- 
genlei. She  grew  up  there  among  simple  folk,  and  developed 
uncommon  intelligence.  Sometimes  she  was  proud  and  re- 
served, then  suddenly  feverishly  gay.  When  she  was  twenty 
she  went  the  same  way  as  her  mother.  Her  daughter,  my 
mother,  bore  me  out  of  wedlock,  and  I  was  not  married  my- 
self." 

The  little  girl,  heavy  with  sleep,  stirred  now  that  the  story 
was  at  an  end.  The  door  gave  a  sharp  creak.  Rieke  moved 
her  clumsy  body.  "  Does  Lisa  want  anything?  " 

"  No.     She  is  lying  quite  still,  as  yellow  as  wax." 

Then  Rieke,  supporting  her  hands  on  the  arms  of  her  chair, 
got  slowly  on  to  her  legs  and  went  thoughtfully  up  into 
the  bedroom,  holding  on  to  the  sides  of  the  door. 

Stiena  remained  at  the  table  nodding  her  head  and  smil- 
ing sweetly,  listening  to  some  joyous  music.  The  bead  fringe 
rattled  gently,  and  the  strings  swayed  elegantly.  So  she 
sat,  dreaming,  "  It's  a  nobleman ;  I'm  sure  of  it." 

Hule  stood  by  the  window  gazing  out  into  the  stormy 
night.  After  a  while  Rieke  came  down  the  stairs  with  the 
child  in  her  arms,  and  sat  down  again,  breathing  hard,  in 


HOLYLAND  19 

her  big  chair  by  the  table,  saying,  in  a  choked  voice,  "  Lisa 
is  dead." 

Stiena  uttered  a  piercing  yell,  calling  God  and  men  to  wit- 
ness. 

Hule  had  turned  away  from  the  window  and  gone  up  into 
the  bedroom.  Coming  down  again  stiffly  after  a  short  ab- 
sence he  said,  shaking  his  head,  "  What  a  misfortune." 

Rieke  pushed  back  her  cup  sharply.  "  Be  quiet,"  she  said ; 
"  I  don't  want  to  hear  another  word." 

But  the  old  man  was  not  to  be  baulked.  "  What  a  mass 
of  sin  have  we  here.  The  king's  son  and  the  mayor  and 
all  those  who  have  committed  outrage,  the  farmer  who  drove 
her  away,  and  you  two,  who  paid  no  heed  to  her!  This  town 
is  called  Hilligenlei,  Holyland,  but  never  have  I  seen  a  man 
here  free  of  sin  and  sorrow." 

Rieke  struck  the  table  sharply,  and  said,  in  a  breaking 
voice,  "  I  won't  hear  it.  Christ  our  Lord  redeemed  us  with 
His  blood.  That  I  have  learnt,  and  that  I  stand  by." 

"What  then?"  said  the  old  man.  "  Is  there  a  single  man 
in  Hilligenlei  or  along  the  dyke  who  is  redeemed,  who  is 
holy?  Think  of  all  the  lazy,  thoughtless,  stupid  people  in 
the  town.  But,  I  say  unto  you,  one  day  a  brave  man  will 
come  who  will  rise  up  like  a  judge  in  Israel  and  bow  the 
whole  land  beneath  his  sword  until  it  is  holy  in  deed  as  in 
name." 

At  this  moment  Tina  shot  in  at  the  door,  and,  throwing 
a  postcard  on  the  table,  was  off  again.  "  The  postman 
brought  it  to  us  because  you  weren't  at  home,  Stiena." 

Stiena  snatched  up  the  card,  wiping  the  tears  from  her  eyes 
to  read  the  address.  "  To  Stiena  Dusenschon  in  Hilligenlei." 
When  she  turned  it  over  it  was  painted  with  bright  flowers. 
In  the  little  fore  space  were  the  words,  "  You  have  no  idea 
of  it  "  —  at  that  time  a  slang  phrase. 

"  Oh,  look  here,"  she  said,  wiping  away  her  tears,  "  look! 
this  is  from  him.  What  a  pretty  card.  I  have  no  idea  — 
no  idea  of  what  ?  that  he  is  a  rich  man  —  no.  I  have  no 
idea.  Rieke,  he's  a  nobleman.  He'll  come  in  his  carriage 
and  fetch  away  the  child,  and  me  too." 

Rieke  took  the  card  and  looked  at  it  and  said,  "  It's  a 
pretty  card,  and  the  writing  is  good,  but  it  would  be  better 
if  there  were  a  name  on  it." 


20  HOLYLAND 

"  Who  or  what  his  father  is  does  not  matter  in  the  least," 
said  the  old  man.  "  What  does  matter  is  that  he  should 
help  to  make  this  land,  this  Hilligenlei,  more  holy,  that's  it." 

"  Always  at  that,"  said  Rieke,  crossly.  "  I  say,  with  a 
father  who  writes  a  postcard  like  that,  and  a  Dusenschon 
for  his  mother,  he  will  be  something,  that's  certain.  Come, 
Stiena,  let's  consult  the  cards.  Good  heavens,  what  one  has 
to  go  through  in  this  life!  They're  on  the  top  shelf." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Stiena,  getting  up  so  quickly  that  the  bon- 
net strings  swayed  and  the  bead  fringe  rose  in  waves.  "  Con- 
sult the  cards.  Lord,  how  I  wonder!" 

Next  morning  Rieke  was  once  more  sitting  in  her  big 
armchair  by  the  hearth  with  her  foot-warmer  smoking  a 
little,  and  she  looked  eagerly  across  to  the  harbourmaster's 
house,  expecting  her  summons  to  come  at  last.  So  she 
waited  for  four  days,  visited  meantime  by  some  twenty 
women,  old  and  young,  who  drank  coffee  with  her.  She 
complained  of  her  loneliness,  and  began  to  be  secretly  angry 
with  the  child.  On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day,  when  she 
had  just  taken  up  her  usual  position  on  the  throne,  Har- 
bourmaster Lau  came  across  the  street,  burst  open  a  window 
with  his  great  paw  so  that  the  fastening  jumped  off,  and  said, 
in  his  calm,  comfortable  way,  "  The  boy  arrived  last  night." 

She  threw  herself  stiffly  up  and  regarded  him  sharply  out 
of  her  round  eyes.  "Why  didn't  you  send  for  me?" 

"Well,"  said  Lau,  "the  boy  said  it  wasn't  necessary;  he 
could  help  himself.  There  are  the  fifteen  pence,"  and  he 
counted  the  midwife's  fee  on  to  the  window-sill. 

"  That  boy  will  be  a  good-for-nothing  weathercock,  I  can 
tell  you  that." 

The  big  harbourmaster  laughed  in  his  fair  beard  and  went 
off.  Then  Rieke  remembered  that  fifteen  pence  were  owing 
her  from  Stiena.  She  waited  till  Stiena  came  one  day  to 
drink  a  cup  of  coffee  with 'her,  and  then  said,  "The  fifteen 
pence,  please." 

Stiena  swayed  a  little  as  if  to  some  wonderful,  festal  music, 
and  said,  with  an  acid  sweetness,  "  I  told  you  such  a  lovely 
story  while  Lisa  was  dying.  You  don't  get  any  money  from 
me.  Look,  I've  got  a  new  fringe  made,  and  I've  bought 
new  bonnet  strings  for  myself." 

From  this  time  little  Dusenschon  was  in  Rieke's  bad  books, 


HOLYLAND  21 

although  the  cards  had  foretold  him  good  —  wealth  and 
honour.  She  told  all  her  visitors  he  would  come  to  nothing. 

So  the  two  children,  the  little  Dusenschon  and  the  little 
Lau,  grew  up  together  and  became  friends.  When  they  filled 
the  street  with  their  noise  Rieke  Thomson  would  rise  in 
her  big  chair,  and  sometimes  even  get  up  heavily,  open  the 
window,  and  shout  to  the  little  Lau  boy,  "  You  weather- 
cock! "  and  to  little  Tjark  Dusenschon,  "You  haven't  even 
paid  your  midwife's  fee!  "  What  could  two  little  boys  do? 
What  use  was  it  for  the  harbourmaster  to  call  to  his  boy 
with  his  big,  comfortable  laugh,  "  Don't  let  yourself  be  put 
upon,  my  boy!  "  or  for  Stiena  to  come  to  the  door  with  flying 
bonnet  strings  and  cry  out  in  a  sweet  voice,  "  Tj-ark,  Tj-a- 
a-rk,  my  sweet  boy,  come  quickly  to  your  granny." 

Next  door  to  the  harbourmaster,  and  on  the  other  side 
from  the  long  house,  lived  a  smith  called  John  Frederick 
Buhmann.  In  Hilligenlei  they  called  him  Jeff  for  short. 
He  was  a  very  big  man  with  wild,  uncombed  hair  and  a 
face  black  all  over  except  for  the  yellow  whites  of  his  eyes 
and  his  yellow  teeth.  His  great,  tall  frame  looked  as  if  it 
were  falling  to  pieces,  only  held  together  by  the  big,  stiff 
apron  of  blackish-brown  leather.  He  looked  all  right  from 
the  front,  but  from  behind  quite  dreadful,  for  the  apron 
did  not  meet,  and  he  was,  so  to  speak,  without  sidepieces, 
nothing  but  a  mass  of  loose,  shabby  trouser,  and  a  thin  strap 
of  worn-out  leather  hanging  down  from  the  apron.  Everyone 
knows  what  an  elephant  looks  like  from  behind. 

All  the  little  street  children  were  frightened  of  him,  for  as 
they  passed  he  used  to  crawl  out  of  the  smithy  half-doubled 
up,  bellowing  fearfully,  and  shake  his  great,  black  fist  at 
them.  Really,  he  was  not  a  bad  fellow,  but  a  fool,  and  a 
childish  fool  at  that,  and  lazy. 

One  day,  when  the  two  children  were  about  six  years  old, 
he  enticed  them  into  'the  smithy  and  became  their  friend  and 
protector  against  the  fat  woman.  Many  were  the  hours  they 
spent  with  him  —  outside  on  the  bench  by  the  wall  in  sum- 
mer, on  the  anvil  by  the  hearth,  often  quite  cold,  in  winter. 
One  day  Tjark  brought  the  postcard  which  had  come  to  his 
grandmother  on  the  day  of  his  birth.  A  long  consultation 
ensued.  For  hours  the  big  smith  rumpled  his  wild  hair  with 
his  big,  sooty  hands  and  pondered,  holding  the  card  up 


22  HOLYLAND 

against  the  sunlight,  to  discover  hidden  writing  or  secret 
signs.  Then  suddenly  he  would  look  up  from  the  writing 
to  fix  his  wild,  soot-circled  eyes  on  Tj ark's  face,  searching 
for  a  likeness  to  any  well-known  man  in  Hilligenlei.  Then, 
shaking  his  head,  he  would  say,  "  You  have  no.  idea  of  it,  no 
idea  —  " 

Little  Tjark  sat  opposite  him,  gazing  at  him  with  big, 
sparkling  eyes  till  the  profound  brooding  of  the  big,  wild 
smith  went  so  to  his  heart  that  he  burst  into  tears,  where- 
upon little  Lau  scolded  and  beat  him,  and  thus  Tjark  grew 
good  at  crying  and  Lau  good  at  his  fists. 

But  Hule  Beiderwand,  the  old  orderly  on  the  Kiel  and 
Gottorp  road,  standing  at  the  window  of  the  long  house, 
looking  at  the  two  boys,  soon  saw  that  Tjark  was  not  the 
right  one.  He  was  indolent.  So  for  a  time  he  set  his  hopes 
on  Pe  Ontjes  Lau.  The  lad  was  well  built,  and  carried 
himself  well.  He  was  calm  and  self-reliant,  and  showed  a 
gift  for  ruling.  One  day,  however,  Max  Wieber,  the  school- 
master at  the  harbour  school,  told  him  that  it  was  quite  im- 
possible to  get  twice  two  into  Lau's  head.  So  Hule  gave  up 
this  hope  too.  The  man  who  was  to  redeem  the  whole  land 
from  sloth  and  injustice  and  other  imperfection  must  know 
his  elements. 

So  the  old  man  turned  away  from  the  window  back  to  the 
"bedside  of  his  brother.  He  had  taken  over  the  task  of  look- 
ing after  him  from  his  parents  when  he  was  a  young  farmer 
fifty  years  ago.  From  his  youth  up  he  had  been  lame,  and 
for  the  last  thirty  years  confined  to  bed.  Hule  sat  down  by 
his  side  and  read  aloud  to  him  from  the  Bible  and  the  hymn 
book  and  Luther.  He  did  not  give  up  hope.  He  waited 
for  a  young  couple  to  come  and  live  in  the  long  house,  or 
perhaps  for  new  life  over  there  in  the  Friestadt  school-house, 
where  a  lonely  old  pair  now  lived,  to  send  the  well-known 
light  across  the  bay.  For  he  thought  to  'himself  that  up  there 
on  the  open  dyke,  face  to  face  with  the  wide  sea,  now  as  light 
as  the  sunshine,  now  as  gloomy  as  fear  itself,  the  child  was 
to  be  born. 


CHAPTER   II. 

WILLIAM  BOJE,  the  new  teacher,  who  came  when  the  old 
man  died  over  at  Friestadt  on  the  dyke,  knew  nothing  of 
women.  Once  he  had  touched  the  hand  of  a  friend's  sister, 
as  if  by  mistake,  just  to  know  what  it  would  feel  like. 
But  then  he  was  very  young;  he  was  twenty-four  now.  He 
had  looked  forward  eagerly  to  his  first  post,  picturing  to 
himself  with  delight  how,  after  school  was  over  and  he  had 
taken  a  walk  along  the  dyke,  he  should  read  the  glorious 
books  he  had  collected  in  his  student  days  —  the  story  of 
Odysseus,  the  soul-stirring  dramas  of  Macbeth  and  Faust, 
and  Robinson  Crusoe.  These  and  a  few  others  seemed  to  pic- 
ture forth  the  whole  drama  of  life  as  in  a  mirror. 

By  March  he 'had  not  been  four  months  in  the  big,  empty 
house  when  he  fell  in  love.  How  it  happened  he  did  not 
know.  It  was  a  time  of  happy  misery.  He  would  stand  in 
front  of  his  bookcase  and  feel  for  a  book,  but  though  his 
eyes  remained  fixed  upon  the  pages,  his  thoughts  were  soon 
far  away.  Suddenly  a  thrill  of  such  intense  rapture  passed 
through  him  that  he  had  to  put  the  book  'down,  and,  plung- 
ing his  hands  in  his  fair  hair,  cry  aloud  for  sheer  happiness. 
So  joyful  did  the  thought  of  her  make  him;  so  deep  was  his 
love,  though  his  eyes  had  never  yet  beheld  her. 

He  would  often  go  into  the  big  front  room  and  picture 
her  to  himself  living  with  him.  There,  against  the  wall, 
would  be  the  sofa ;  there  they  would  sit  in  the  evenings  while 
he  kissed  her  and  held  her  in  his  arms.  Out  of  the  room 
he  went  into  the  passage,  and  felt  in  the  cupboard.  '  There 
her  Sunday  dress  will  hang."  Then  into  the  kitchen,  where 
he  stood  before  the  fire,  to  one  side,  so  as  not  to  be  in  her 
way,  and  heard  her  scolding,  saying  she  could  not  have  any- 
one watch  her  while  she  cooked.  Then  into  the  garden, 
where  he  called  her,  'but  she  did  not  answer,  looked  for  her, 
to  find  her  at  last  hiding  under  the  gooseberry  bushes.  When 

23 


24  HOLYLAND 

he  scolded  her  for  eating  the  unripe  fruit  she  said  she  had  not 
eaten  any,  though  the  skins  on  the  ground  betrayed  her. 
"  Oh,  what  a  child  you  are ;  what  a  funny,  darling  child !  " 
In  the  evening,  before  going  to  bed,  he  went  in  to  the  empty 
middle  room,  and  love's  longing  pictured  her  standing  by  his 
side.  Her  stately  figure  was  full  of  youthful  vigour;  be- 
neath the  thick,  hanging  masses  of  her  smooth,  fair  hair  were 
proud,  elusive  eyes  that  looked  at  him  neither  sweetly  nor 
kindly,  but  with  a  clear,  intelligent  gaze.  Then,  with  a  sud- 
den movement,  she  lifted  up  her  arms  and  put  them  round 
his  neck,  all  sweetness,  and  God's  most  beautiful  creation 
was  revealed  to  his  sight.  So  clear  was  her  image  in  his  soul, 
though  he  knew  not  who  she  was.  It  was  a  time  of  happy 
misery. 

At  last  a  day  came  when  his  restlessness  seemed  to  reach 
its  height.  All  day  long  he  thought  of  her,  and  in  the  eve- 
ning he  seemed  to  be  leaning  over  her  bed  and  saying,  in  an 
affectionate  tone  he  did  not  recognise  as  his  own,  "  Darling, 
the  girl  shall  be  Heinke  and  the  boy  Pete." 

He  grew  afraid  of  his  thoughts.  "  Never  mind.  Thank 
Heaven  I  live  in  a  world  where  girls  are  plentiful  as  black- 
berries. I  will  search  for  my  dream-girl  and  marry  her." 

The  very  next  day  he  heard  that  there  was  a  dance  in 
Hilligenlei,  so  when  Harbourmaster  Lau  came  over  with  his 
boat  he  went  back  with  him. 

Among  the  young  girls  sitting  round  the  hall  as  he  entered 
was  one  very  like  his  dream-picture.  Tall  and  stately,  with 
fair  hair,  as  she  rose  for  the  dance  her  fresh  young  beauty 
clad  her  like  some  royal  garment.  As  she  passed  by  him  in 
its  course  he  saw  in  her  beautiful,  deep  eyes  the  mingled 
pride  and  shyness  of  an  innocent  soul,  and  he  loved  her  more 
and  more.  His  soul  went  out  to  her,  full  of  joyful  love, 
as  he  sat,  lost  in  admiration  of  the  beauty  of  her  strong  fig- 
ure and  her  sweet,  open  face. 

She  happened  to  stop  quite  near  him,  and,  turning  her 
eyes  shyly  to  where  the  men  were  as  she  passed  on  her  part- 
ner's arm,  met  his,  only  to  turn  away  with  lowered  head 
as  a  dove  before  the  hawk,  thinking,  "  What  a  fine,  tall  man ; 
and  how  he  stares  at  me.  If  he  would  only  dance  with  me!  " 

The  dance  in  the  hall  was  an  informal  affair,  for  young 
Ringerang,  the  host,  was  nothing  of  a  manager.  There  was 


HOLYLAND  25 

a  perfect  rush  when  the  music  began,  for  all  the  young  men 
swarmed  round  the  favourites.  After  two  unsuccessful  at- 
tempts to  reach  her  William  'had  to  content  himself  with 
looking  on. 

She  had  watched  him  closely  out  of  the  corners  of  her 
eyes.  Now  that  she  was  dancing  again  confused  thoughts 
passed  through  her  woman's  mind.  "  I'll  do  it.  No,  I  can't 
do  it.  To-day,  now,  he  is  here,  and  I  may  never  see  him 
again  in  my  life.  I  am  going  to  do  it."  Her  shoe  flew  off 
at  his  feet.  "  Oh,"  she  cried,  with  a  faint  scream,  "  my  shoe 
is  off."  She  turned  to  her  partner.  '  There  is  no  good 
thinking  of  dancing  any  more;  the  strap  is  broken."  She 
made  him  a  low  curtsey  and  he,  being  young  and  foolish, 
went  away. 

"  If  you  can't  dance  any  more,"  said  William,  in  a  low, 
choked  voice,  "  come  with  me." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  said,  softly,  "  Let's  go 
outside,  not  into  the  refreshment  room." 

"  I  will  go  on,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  come  after  me." 

Delayed  on  the  way  by  the  crowd,  when  he  came  out  of 
doors  into  the  shadow  of  the  lofty  chestnut  trees  he  did  not 
immediately  see  her  standing  on  the  little  bridge  that  led  over 
the  castle  moat  into  the  park.  The  castle  itself  is  no  longer 
there. 

She  laid  her  arm  in  his.  "  My  father  is  here,  in  Hilli- 
genlei.  He  will  scold  if  he  sees  me!  " 

"  Never  mind  that  now,"  said  he. 

She  laughed  softly.     "I'm  not  to  talk  about  that?" 

"  No." 

"What  about,   then?" 

"  Whether  you  like  me  a  little." 

She  bent  her  head  and  said,  hesitatingly,  "  Do  you  like  me, 
then?" 

"  Dear,  I  have  never  kissed  anyone,  never  held  anyone  in 
my  arms.  Love  to  me  is  serious." 

Once  more  she  bent  her  head  and  cast  her  eyes  upon  the 
ground,  saying,  shyly,  "  Yes,  to  me,  too,  it  is  the  most  serious 
thing  in  the  world." 

Then  he  stood  still  and  took  hold  of  her  hand.  "  Only 
look  up,  only  look  at  me,"  he  begged. 

But  she  still   kept   her  head   bent,   shy  of  showing  a   face 


26  HOLYLAND 

which  she  knew  confessed  in  its  confusion  love's  sudden 
coming. 

The  light,  penetrating  through  the  moving  branches,  played 
upon  her  hair.  He  put  his  hand  upon  her  forehead,  bent  back 
her  head,  imploring,  "  Come  to  me,"  kissed  her  timidly, 
kissed  her  again  and  again  while  she  stood  still  with  eyes  cast 
down.  She  nestled  to  his  side,  both  hands  on  his  arm,  as  she 
walked  on  slowly  by  his  side,  her  eyes  once  more  upon  the 
ground. 

"Does  your  father  dislike  your  going  to  dances?" 

"  Yes ;  he  wants  to  keep  us  all  at  home,  to  save  paying 
wages.  Our  farm  is  heavily  mortgaged.  My  eldest  sister  has 
grown  cold  with  age  already." 

He  was  furious.  "  That  mustn't  happen  to  you.  You  are 
not  to  be  an  old  maid,  darling." 

"  I  don't  want  to,  indeed;  but  who  wants  me?  " 

"  It  all  depends  on  whom  you  want ;  that's  what  matters. 
Do  turn  your  eyes  to  me  for  once.  Look  up;  look  at  me. 
Ah,  don't  be  afraid.  There.  Oh!  what  dear  blue  eyes  they 
are.  Only  tell  me  what  he  'must  look  like,  the  man  you 
love?" 

For  a  while  she  looked  at  him,  without  moving,  with  a 
kind  of  friendly  curiosity.  Then,  in  shy  surrender,  she 
raised  her  hands  as  if  to  put  them  on  his  shoulder.  The 
action  still  incomplete,  she  murmured,  with  an  exquisite 
embarrassment,  "  Something  like  you." 

"  Darling,"  he  answered,  stroking  her  hair. 

As  they  stood  thus,  lost  in  gazing  into  each  other's  eyes, 
a  step  came  under  the  chestnut  trees.  A  heavy,  broad-shoul- 
dered man,  dressed  like  a  workman,  passed  them,  saying,  in  a 
raucous  voice,  "  You  come  home  with  me." 

Without  a  word  she  left  Boje  and  followed  her  father  till 
they  disappeared  down  the  avenue. 

William  walked  back  round  the  bay  to  Friestadt,  home  to 
his  empty  house.  The  next  day  he  thought,  "  What  a  confid- 
ing darling  she  was  with  her  dear  little  white  face,"  and  on 
the  second  pictured  to  himself  her  living  in  his  house,  her 
whom  now  he  actually  knew.  He  went  through  all  the  rooms 
seeing  her  there.  On  the  third  day  came  a  letter  from  her, 
written  in  crooked  letters  —  how  could  such  a  clever  girl 
make  such  funny  little  letters,  —  and  in  such  a  queer  style, 


HOLYLAND  27 

too !  "  I  am  to  marry  my  cousin  from  Krautstiel.  He  has 
a  little  farm  at  the  bottom  of  the  dyke,  and  father  says  he 
does  not  want  a  dowry,  and  if  they  yoke  together  they  could 
save  two  horses  at  ploughing  times.  My  cousin  is  still  quite 
young,  but  his  skin  is  like  horn,  and  does  not  feel  human  at  all. 
I  suppose  I  shall  marry  him  though,  for  what  am  I  to  do? 
I  shall  get  away  from  father,  at  any  rate.  My  window  is 
the  last  on  the  side  facing  the  dyke,  looking  west,  but  what  use 
is  that?  The  whole  night  long  I  think  of  the  schoolmaster 
from  Friestadt,  and  I  do  so  want  to  know  if  he  still  cares  for 
me." 

In  the  evening,  when  it  was  dark,  putting  on  a  thick,  winter 
jacket,  he  went  down  to  the  beach,  unfastened  the  crab-fisher- 
man's boat,  and  rowed  out  into  the  bay.  With  the  ebb  tide 
flowing  hard  in  that  direction,  he  hoped  to  reach  Krautstiel 
in  an  hour,  returning  in  the  morning  with  the  incoming  tide. 
Getting  into  the  current,  and  keeping  his  course  by  the  Hilli- 
genlei  lights,  he  gripped  the  oars.  His  youthful  thoughts  and 
the  force  of  the  stream  impelled  him  on.  When  he  looked  up 
again  after  a  time  that  seemed  to  him  much  shorter  than  it 
really  was,  instead  of  the  herds  of  little  white,  lamb-like  clouds, 
a  few  single  dark  cows  pastured  reflectively  on  the  wide  meadow 
of  the  sky.  On  his  right  the  dyke,  which  had  stood  up  in  front 
of  him  a  clear  dark  line,  had  disappeared.  This  troubled  him, 
and  he  worked  hard  at  his  oars  with  the  idea  of  getting  back 
to  it. 

A  bitter  wind  rose,  the  direction  of  which  he  could  not 
discover.  On  every  side  nothing  but  the  grey  and  black  of  the 
waves,  growing  bigger  and  bigger  as  they  rolled  more  quietly 
past!  Above,  the  sky  was  growing  clearer.  The  cold  was 
intense.  "  She  shall  pay  for  this,  yes,  she  shall,"  he  said 
to  himself,  as,  angry  and  weary,  he  abandoned  all  hope  of 
reaching  his  goal,  and  resolved  to  keep  himself  warm  until  the 
morning  grey  appeared,  and  avoid  being  driven  too  far  out  to 
sea  by  rowing  against  the  stream.  Hardly  was  the  idea  con- 
ceived when  he  became  aware  of  a  wonderfully  clear  light, 
or  a  tower,  it  seemed,  in  front  of  him.  The  tower,  too,  in  the 
very  heart  of  the  raging  sea,  seemed  to  sway  as  its  light,  fiery 
red,  swung  on  high  as  on  a  mast.  Open-eyed  and  open- 
mouthed,  he  made  straight  for  it  —  one,  two  —  Good  heav- 
ens! It  was  the  lightship  —  the  lightship  that  stood  outside 


28  HOLYLAND 

the  bay.  Was  he  so  far  out  of  his  way?  He  rowed  right  up 
to  it,  fastened  his  boat  to  a  rope,  and  climbed  on  deck. 

Two  sailors  were  leaning  over  the  taffrail. 

"  Hallo !  "  said  one  of  them.  "  Where  have  you  sprung 
from?" 

"  I  am  schoolmaster  Boje  from  Friestadt.  I  lost  my  way 
trying  to  get  to  Hilligenlei." 

"  That's  not  true,"  said  the  sailor.  "  You  were  on  your 
way  to  Krautstiel  to  see  Hella  Anderson!" 

Boje  stared  with  the  deep-set,  clever  eyes  sparkling  in  the 
sailor's  weather-beaten  face.  "  How  on  earth  do  you  know 
that?" 

"  I  am  Thomas  Jans.  My  wife  wrote  to  me  how  Hella 
danced  out  of  her  slipper.  She  knows  her  quite  well,  for  she 
has  been  in  service  up  there  at  the  farm." 

"  What  was  your  wife  doing  at  the  dance  with  you  on  the 
lightship?" 

"  Well,  you  see,  we've  got  three  children,  so  she  earns  a 
bit.  She's  a  chambermaid  up  at  Ringerang's.  Come,  you're 
simply  frozen." 

On  the  companion  were  the  captain  and  lieutenant.  They 
shook  their  heads  over  Boje's  story,  and,  after  saying  to  Jans, 
"  You  can  take  him  ashore,"  troubled  no  further  about  him. 

He  sat  down  in  the  cabin,  on  the  extreme  edge  of  a  sea-chest, 
with  the  faint  warmth  of  the  little  stove  between  his  knees,  his 
teeth  chattering,  and  his  whole  body  trembling  with  cold. 
"  Have  you  been  long  on  the  lightship?  " 

'  Three   years   now,"    said    Thomas. 

"  How  on  earth  can  you  endure  it?  Three  years  away  from 
your  wife!  If  it  were  a  thousand  miles  away,  perhaps;  but 
only  two  —  it  must  be  the  very  devil." 

"  Yes,  it  is  that;  but  what's  to  be  done?  "  said  the  sailor. 

"  How  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Well,  look  here.  To  begin  with,  there's  very  little  work 
going  in  Hflligenlei ;  nothing  at  all  in  winter  for  ten  or  twelve 
weeks ;  the  whole  place  goes  to  sleep,  as  you  know.  Well  — 
well,  you  see  —  in  the  first  three  years  we  had  three  girls  right 
off,  so  I  thought,  is  it  to  go  on  like  that?  " 

"  So  that's  why  you  went  on  the  lightship?  " 

"Just  so." 

"And  these  three  years  you  haven't  been  near  your  wife?" 


HOLYLAND  29 

"  I've  been  over  now  and  then  —  every  six  weeks  or  so;  but 
I  kept  away  from  her,  do  you  understand?" 

"  You're  mad,"  said  Boje,  drawing  the  stove  nearer,  "  quite 
mad.  You're  not  living  at  all." 

"  Yes,"  said  Thomas,  looking  at  Boje  from  under  his  clever, 
deep-set  eyes.  "  It's  bad  enough ;  my  life  isn't  worth  living. 
But  look  here.  Suppose  a  boy  came.  The  three  girls  are  all 
right.  They  are  sure  to  marry,  somehow;  but  if  it  were  a 
boy?" 

"  A  boy?    Be  glad,  man,  be  glad!  " 

"  That's  all  very  well,  but  what  is  to  become  of  him  ? 
Look  here.  When  I  was  a  kid  I  always  wanted  to  be  learn- 
ing. I  never  got  enough  of  reading  and  learning.  The  school- 
master said  to  my  father,  '  It's  a  pity  the  boy  must  go  to  the 
fields,'  but  when  I  was  ten  I  had  to  go.  My  learning  then  was 
over  just  when  it  should  have  begun  —  absolutely  over.  Well, 
seven  years  ago,  just  after  I  came  back  from  the  army,  I  was 
with  Hargen  Jansen,  in  Siiderwisch,  you  know,  and  his 
brother,  the  parson,  came  to  see  him.  I  had  to  go  about  with 
him  all  over  the  place,  down  to  the  sea,  up  to  the  inland  vil- 
lages, while  he  tried  to  find  out  all  his  childish  haunts;  and 
in  these  three  days,  while  I  drove  beside  him  in  the  cart,  he 
talked  about  everything  in  heaven  and  earth  and  learned  folks' 
ideas  about  it:  about  religion  and  the  State,  Parliament  and 
self-government,  trade  and  industry  and  agriculture.  But  he 
didn't  give  me  any  pleasure.  When  the  three  days  came  to 
an  end  and  I  went  back  to  the  stables,  and  was  alone  again 
in  the  evenings  in  the  room  beside  the  horses,  I  can  tell  you 
I  have  never  been  so  unhappy  in  my  life,  for  that's  how  it  is 
and  how  it  will  always  be.  Do  you  understand  ?  A  big,  empty 
house  in  one's  head,  no  wall  paper,  no  windows,  no  furniture, 
no  one  living  in  it  at  all  —  do  you  see  what  I  mean  ?  Well, 
girls  can  manage ;  they  don't  demand  so  much ;  but  a  boy  — 
is  he  to  go  into  that  misery?  is  he  to  have  that  hideous,  empty 
house  in  his  head  all  his  life?  Do  you  see?  Well,  then,  you 
know  why  I  sit  here  on  the  lightship." 

"  Do  you  love  your  wife  ?  "  said  Boje. 

"  I  should  think  so,  the  dear  little  woman." 

Resting  his  head  on  both  hands,  he  fell  into  a  brown  study. 

Three  sailors  came  into  the  cabin  and  sat  down.  One  of 
them  cleaned  his  pipe  while  the  other  two  looked  on,  saying 


30  HOLYLAND 

nothing.  Thomas  raised  his  head,  and,  as  if  speaking  his 
thoughts  aloud,  said,  "  Carpenter,  have  you  had  a  single  happy 
hour  in  your  whole  life?  " 

"I   don't  know,"  said  the  carpenter.     "Quite  happy?  no, 
I  don't  think  so  —  perhaps  when  I  was  quite  a  boy." 
'  Think,"   said   Thomas. 

"  Man,  you're  as  curious  as  a  child,"  said  the  carpenter, 
working  at  his  pipe.  "Quite  happy?  I  don't  know  —  yes  — 
six  or  seven  years  ago,  after  the  war,  I  went  to  London  on  a 
merchant  steamer.  On  the  way  we  had  a  strange  experience. 
There  was  a  passenger  on  board,  a  little  man,  whose  face 
seemed  to  me  a  bit  Jewish.  One  evening,  when  I  was  off  duty, 
we  had  got  into  a  regular  nor'wester,  and  he  came  down  to 
our  quarters.  Bob  Stevens  had  just  opened  the  Bible,  so  I 
suppose  it  was  Sunday.  Well,  the  fellow  came,  sat  down, 
and,  seeing  the  book,  struck  it  with  his  hand  —  I  can  see  him 
now  —  saying,  '  That's  the  best  book  in  the  world,  but  it's 
to  blame  for  most  of  the  poverty  and  stupidity  there  is  in  it.' 
Yes,  that's  what  he  said,  as  near  as  possible." 

Thomas  Jans  had  lifted  up  his  heavy  head,  and  his  eyes  were 
fixed  on  the  old  carpenter's  hairy  face.  "  Go  on." 

'  The  rich  and  the  parsons,'  said  the  Jew,  '  throw  sand  in 
our  eyes,  and  they  get  their  sand  from  the  Bible.'  Yes,  that's 
what  he  said,  just  that." 

Thomas  stared   at   Boje.     "Well,   schoolmaster?" 

"A  socialist,"  said  Boje.  "  I've  heard  of  them;  a  socialist. 
But  that  doesn't  help  me  to  get  to  Krautstiel." 

"  Go  on." 

"Well,  what  else  did  he  say?  Everything  was  to  be 
changed,  everything,  and  soon,  too." 

"  I   don't  understand,"  began  Thomas. 

"  Think,  man ;  all  equal  —  that's  what  he  said  —  all  equal. 
Now,  because  one  rich  man  has  a  big  field  and  a  big  wood  the 
poor  men  have  to  shiver  in  the  streets  with  their  children,  or 
live  crowded  together  in  a  slum  where  the  sun  never  shines. 
Because  one  rich  man  has  magnificent  clothes,  travels  all  over 
the  world,  buys  his  children  every  book  they  want,  ten  poor 
men  and  their  children  are  oppressed  and  ignorant  all  their 
lives.  All  that  is  to  be  changed,  he  said.  The  day  is  over  when 
the  nobleman's  child  rode  in  front  and  the  workman's  child 
crawled  behind.  Let  both  sit  on  the  horse  and  see  which  can 


HOLYLAND  31 

ride,  which  falls  off,  do  you  see?  so  that  the  best  men  can  help 
the  people  on.  See?  That's  what  he  said." 

Thomas  Jans  had  got  up  on  to  his  feet.  "  So  that's  what  he 
said,"  he  asked,  slowly;  "  and  there  are  people  who  believe  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  thousands  in  Hamburg  and  Berlin ;  mem- 
bers of  the  Reichstag,  too." 

"  What  was  that  about  the  children?  "  said  Jans,  staring  at 
him.  "  Those  who  have  something  in  their  heads  are  to  go  up, 
that's  it?" 

"  Yes,  that's  what  he  said." 

"  Then,"  said  Thomas,  "  that's  it  all  right.  Yes,  by  Heaven, 
I  will  —  I  will  leave  the  lightship  and  risk  it.  Come  on, 
schoolmaster.  I'll  take  you  to  Krautstiel  and  go  to  Hilligenlei 
from  there." 

The  carpenter  wiped  his  mouth  and  looked  at  the  others. 
"Risk  it,  will  he?  Risk  what?" 

They  shook  their  heads.  The  carpenter  went  on :  "  There 
was  once  a  young  fellow  on  the  lightship  just  like  that.  He 
got  quieter  and  quieter,  and  used  to  stare  across  at  the  Blue- 
sand  buoy  —  stare  for  hours.  Suddenly  one  evening  he  said 
to  me,  'Carpenter,  isn't  that  my  wife?'  He  actually  thought 
that  the  buoy,  a  great  long  thing  at  least  fifteen  yards  high, 
was  his  wife !  So  I  had  to  bring  him  on  shore ;  a  young  man's 
no  good  on  a  lightship.  Jans  is  gone  quite  silly.  Going  to  risk 
it?  What  on  earth's  he  going  to  risk?  " 

Meantime  the  other  two  had  got  over  the  side  and  were 
rowing  hard,  thoroughly  soaked  meantime  by  a  cold  rain  that 
had  come  on  hard  and  wet  them  through  by  the  time  they  got 
into  Krautstiel  an  hour  later.  Silent  and  frozen,  they  walked 
along  the  dyke  against  the  biting  wind  until  Jans  said,  "  That's 
the  farm.  Do  you  see?  There,  under  those  dark  poplars," 
shouting  after  him  as  he  turned  aside  without  a  word. 

"  Hpld  hard,  or  the  old  fellow  won't  give  up  his  girl." 

To  which  Boje  replied,  without  turning  round,  "  Mind  your 
own  business,  and  I'll  look  after  mine." 

Coming  down  to  the  thatched  roof,  before  he  had  had  time 
to  distinguish  the  separate  windows,  he  saw  Hella  Anderson 
sitting  in  the  window-ledge.  She  put  her  arm  round  him, 
then  shrank  back.  "  Oh,  how  wet  you  are,  and  frozen  with 
cold.  Come  quickly  inside,  you  dear,  dear  thing.  You  must 
get  into  my  warm  bed ;  you're  simply  perishing  with  cold." 


32  HOLYLAND 

He  got  in  at  the  window.  "  My  darling,"  he  said,  holding 
her  fast  in  his  arms.  "  Tell  me,  must  you  marry  your  cousin, 
with  his  horny  skin,  to  save  your  father  two  horses?" 

Clinging  fast  to  him,  she  nodded.  "  Darling,  don't  desert 
me." 

"  Desert  you?    I  desert  you?    Oh,  how  beautiful  you  are!  " 

So  he  came  to  her  for  six  weeks,  and  then  she  had  to  tell 
her  father. 

When  the  time  came  a  little  boy  was  born  in  the  long  house 
at  Hilligenlei.  When  Rieke  Thomson  took  him  up  to  wash 
him  she  turned  to  his  mother  and  said,  in  a  frightened  voice, 
"  Look  in  the  middle  of  his  breast ;  he's  got  a  flaming  red 
mark,  as  big  and  round  as  a  four-shilling  piece.  What  on  earth 
is  it?" 

Thomas  Jans  bent  over  his  weary  little  wife.  "  Didst  hear, 
Mala?" 

She  felt  for  his  hand  and  said :  "  All  the  three  years  that 
you  were  away,  especially  at  night,  when  I  lay  in  bed  and 
couldn't  go  to  sleep,  I  used  to  see  the  lightship  in  my  mind's 
eye,  and  the  light  was  always  as  big  and  round  as  a  four- 
shilling  piece." 

About  midnight,  when  Rieke  had  looked  after  the  infant 
and  put  it  in  its  mother's  arms,  old  Hule  Beiderwand,  who 
had  been  watching  by  his  brother's  dying  bed,  knocked  at  the 
window  to  say  that  the  light  was  shining  opposite.  So  off 
went  Rieke,  just  as  she  was,  to  help  Hella  with  her  first  child 
—  a  plump  girl  with  yellow  hair  like  her  own  that  lay  all  over 
the  pillow.  Her  husband  pressed  her  hand  so  hard  that  she 
had  to  beg  him  to  take  care,  so  deeply  did  he  rejoice  in  the 
child  that  his  dear,  lovely,  passionate  wife  had  given  him. 

And  so  the  two  children  grew  up.  The  little  Jans  boy  grew 
up,  in  the  long  house  at  Hilligenlei,  a  delicate  boy,  but  not 
really  weak,  seldom  seeing  his  parents.  His  mother  worked  at 
Ringerangs',  and  his  father  stood  by  the  edge  of  the  sea,  dig- 
ging. When  they  went  away  he  was  still  asleep;  when  they 
came  back  he  was  in  bed.  Only  on  Sundays  he  sat  on  her  lap, 
or  stood  between  her  knees;  and  soon  a  time  came  when  he 
caught  hold  of  his  mother's  dress  and  followed  her  all  over  the 
big  house  to  the  last  door. 

There  sat  a  huge,   round  woman.     Everything  about  her 


HOLYLAND  33 

seemed  round,  especially  her  eyes.  She  drank  coffee  with 
brown  sugar,  and  gave  him  a  lump,  saying  to  his  mother,  "  Ex- 
traordinary eyes  that  boy  has;  always  wondering.  I  like  the 
boy,  all  but  those  eyes  of  his.  What  in  the  world  is  there  to 
wonder  at?  I'll  see  if  the  cards  have  anything  to  say." 

All  that  the  cards  said  was  that  there  was  not  much  money, 
and,  as  little  Mala  Jans  said  proudly,  "  Happiness  did  not  de- 
pend on  that." 

Sometimes  he  would  put  his  little  hand  inside  his  father's 
big,  hard  one  and  go  next  door  into  Hule  Beiderwand's  room. 
He  gave  him  a  bit  of  bread  and  butter  and  an  old  Bible  story- 
book with  astonishing  pictures,  and  while  he  sat  kneeling  on  a 
chair  at  the  window  with  the  book  on  the  ledge  talking  to  the 
pictures  Thomas  Jans  spoke  of  his  hopes  that  the  new  Labour 
party  would  make  the  world  holy,  and  so  realize  their  old  faith. 

But  the  old  man  had  become  reserved,  and  said,  obstinately, 
"  No ;  a  man  must  live  here  in  the  bay,  here  on  the  dyke,  and 
make  a  Hilligenlei,  a  Holyland,  out  of  this  place  with  the 
power  of  his  might:  that  is  our  faith." 

He  called  the  child  in  his  high,  hollow  voice  and  looked 
at  him  with  his  darkened  eyes,  saying,  "  No;  this  is  not  the 
one;  his  eyes  are  timid;  he  is  afraid,"  and  he  almost  pushed  the 
boy  away. 


CHAPTER  III. 

ONE  day,  when  he  was  seven  years  old,  his  mother  said 
she  wanted  to  take  him  across  the  bay.  In  the  house  he  could 
just  see  in  the  distance,  on  the  dyke,  there  lived  a  little  girl 
who  was  just  his  age.  With  observant  eyes  full  of  a  some- 
what uneasy  wonder  he  followed  his  mother  down  to  the  pier, 
clutching,  as  usual,  tightly  hold  of  her  skirt. 

A  fresh  breeze  came  to  meet  them.  On  the  pier  was  Pe 
Ontjes  Lau,  and  he  had  on  a  woollen  cap  and  wooden  shoes, 
such  as  no  one  else  wore  in  the  whole  bay. 

One  day  a  smack  from  Jutland  had  been  driven  into  Hilli- 
genlei  by  a  westerly  gale,  and  for  three  days  it  lay  off  the 
pier.  For  a  whole  day  Pe  Ontjes  and  the  Jutlander  had  sat 
opposite  to  one  another  without  speaking  or  moving,  the  Jut- 
lander  in  his  woollen  cap  and  wooden  shoes  on  the  hatchway, 
Pe  Ontjes  on  land,  on  top  of  a  post,  both  with  their  hands  up 
to  the  elbows  in  their  trousers  pockets.  The  next  day  Pe 
Ontjes  began  to  bargain.  They  got  on  quite  well  with  low 
German  and  low  Danish  and  their  ringers  to  help  them  out. 
With  his  teeth  set  hard,  Pe  Ontjes  paid  sixteen  good  pence 
into  the  Jutlander's  horny  yellow  hand.  Half  a  year  later 
the  woollen  cap  and  the  wooden  shoes  came  safely  to  hand,  not 
nicely  wrapped  up,  by  post,  but  handed  from  smack  to  smack 
from  Jutland  right  across  to  Hamburg,  and  so  over  to  Hilli- 
genlei,  with  this  address,  no  more,  "  On  the  pier  at  Hilligenlei 
is  a  twelve-year-old  boy;  these  are  his." 

From  that  hour  he  had  worn  the  costume  whenever  there 
was  a  cold  wind,  putting  it  on  as  soon  as  he  came  out  of  school, 
and  on  the  understanding  that  there  were  to  be  no  jeers. 

He  was  standing  now  on  the  bridge,  his  legs  wide  apart, 
munching  a  big  piece  of  black  bread,  spread  with  roast  potato. 
To  keep  the  potato  from  blowing  away  he  had  stuck  it  to  the 
bread  with  black  syrup.  He  looked  at  his  shy  little  neighbour, 
clinging  fast  to  his  mother,  up  and  down  with  a  calm  and  fath- 
erly air,  and  asked,  "What  are  you  going  to  be?" 

34 


HOLYLAND  35 

The  little  fellow  looked  at  him  sharply  out  of  his  deep  blue 
eyes.  "What  are  you  going  to  be?" 

Pe  Ontjes  was  astonished,  and  began  to  feel  a  certain  respect 
for  Kai.  "  I  am  going  to  sea,  of  course.  In  four  years  I  shall 
be  done  with  school,  and  then  I  am  going  to  South  America." 

"  You  haven't  chosen  a  very  fine  day,"  said  the  harbour- 
master to  Mala  Jans.  "  The  wind  is  getting  round  to  the 
north." 

"  You  must  stick  close  to  the  Danish  coast,  father,"  said  he 
of  the  woollen  cap.  '  Then  you  can  get  back  easily." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lau,  reflectively,  "  but  then  it  will  be  late  and 
cold  and  dark,  not  for  little  boys." 

They  embarked  and  made  a  good  start.  Pe  Ontjes  stood 
on  the  bank,  looking  after  them. 

"  You  treat  your  boy  as  if  he  were  thirty,"  said  little  Mala, 
in  a  captious  tone. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lau,  "  as  usual,  you  are  right.  My  father  was 
a  day  labourer  in  Eierstadt.  In  my  youth  I  didn't  learn  read- 
ing or  writing.  Then  I  went  to  sea  and  went  all  over  the 
world,  but  all  the  time  I  cared  for  nothing  but  eating  and 
drinking.  I  often  seemed  to  hear  a  smothered  voice  within 
me  saying,  'Bestir  yourself,  man;  rise  a  little  in  the  world.' 
But  I  only  began  to  wake  up  when  I  was  about  forty.  Then 
I  looked  about  me  and  learnt  a  few  things,  passed  the  short- 
distance  certificate,  and  so  got  the  post  of  harbourmaster  here. 
And  I  can't  get  any  further.  That's  why,  you  see,  I'm  glad 
of  every  question  that  Pe  Ontjes  asks,  and  why  I  talk  as  se- 
riously to  him  as  to  someone  of  my  own  age.  He's  naturally 
rather  a  sluggard  and  no  hero  at  his  books,  just  like  I  used  to 
be,  but  you'll  see  that  having  a  really  sensible  friend  will  make 
things  easier  for  him,  and  he'll  get  on  better  than  I  have." 

When  Mala  Jans,  holding  her  little  boy  by  the  hand,  came 
into  the  clean  hall  of  the  schoolhouse  and  found  no  one  there 
she  blushed  shamefacedly,  and  was  going  to  slip  quietly  out  of 
the  door  when  she  heard  a  voice  from  the  inner  room,  "  Is 
that  Mala?  Come  in  here,  I  can't  get  up." 

So  the  two  went  on  tiptoe  through  the  hall  and  the  kitchen, 
and  found  Hella  Boje  on  a  chair  by  the  window  in  a  loose, 
open  garment  with  a  new-born  babe  at  her  breast,  the  clear 
sunshine  falling  on  the  charming  picture. 

Mala  clasped  her  hands.     "Oh!  I  had  no  idea!" 


36  HOLYLAND 

Hella  laughed.  "  I  thought  you  did  not  know,  and  I  was 
looking  forward  to  your  astonishment.  A  big  girl,  isn't  she? 
Number  three  already !  " 

It  was  Wednesday  afternoon,  and  in  came  the  teacher  fresh 
from  his  books.  In  his  beautiful,  steel-grey  eyes  and  in  his 
joyful  bearing  was  something  of  the  reflected  glory  of  great 
and  strange  times  and  extraordinary  events.  He  called  the 
little  boy  to  him,  and,  holding  back  his  head,  said  to  his  wife, 
"  What  a  real  old  German  he  looks.  Like  one  of  Siegfried's 
men,  one  of  the  peasants,  not  the  noblemen.  I  wager  he  will 
be  a  dreamer,  like  his  father."  As  he  said  this  the  night  on  the 
fireship  came  into  his  mind.  "  Yes,  I  will  risk  it,"  and  he 
laughed. 

"  But  where  are  your  two  eldest?  "  said  Mala.  "  Not  ill, 
I  hope?" 

"They  —  ill!  "  said  Boje,  and,  getting  up,  he  led  the  little 
boy  through  the  kitchen,  and,  opening  the  outer  door,  pointed 
out  two  children,  a  boy  and  girl,  lying  in  the  long  grass  at  the 
edge  of  the  pond,  so  that  only  their  fair  heads  were  visible 
above  it.  They  looked  sharply  at  the  newcomer  out  of  their 
grey  eyes. 

'  This  is  little  Kai  Jans.  Make  friends,  or  you  shall  be 
smacked."  And  with  this  Boje  returned  to  his  books.  Kai 
remained  standing  at  the  kitchen  door;  the  other  two  lay  face 
downwards  on  the  grass,  with  outstretched  necks. 

"  There's  a  scarecrow,"  said  Anna  to  Pete. 

"  Yes,  isn't  he  ?  that's  a  real  workman's  boy.  Look  at  his 
boots;  not  made  for  him.  Mother  might  have  told  us." 

"  We  have  no  use  for  you  just  now,"  said  Anna,  "  but  I 
shall  soon  quarrel  with  Pete,  and  then  I'll  play  with  you ;  until 
then  you  can  stay  there  and  look  on." 

Kai  was  not  surprised  by  this  treatment.  They  seemed  so 
grand,  and  all  their  surroundings  too.  They  were  engaged  in 
weaving  a  peaked  cap  by  plaiting  rushes.  As  both  were  work- 
ing at  the  same  piece  a  quarrel  soon  arose.  "  You're  no  good," 
said  Pete;  "  leave  it  to  me." 

"  The  cap  isn't  only  for  you,"  said  Anna,  getting  annoyed. 

"  It's  all  one  to  me,"  said  Pete.  "  Leave  off,  or  I'll  smack 
you,"  suiting  the  action  to  the  word. 

Anna  retreated,  her  eyes  on  the  cap.  Anger  visibly  rose 
and  then  died  down  in  the  determined  little  face.  As  she 


HOLYLAND  37 

looked  up  her  eyes  fell  on  Kai,  and  she  said  to  her  brother, 
"  Let's  beat  him  to  bits!  What  else  is  he  good  for?  " 

But  Pete,  remembering  his  father's  warning,  said,  "  No,  we 
won't  beat  him ;  we'll  frighten  him." 

Suddenly  jumping  up  they  made  a  dash  upon  him  like  prac- 
tised highwaymen,  and  dragged  him  to  the  pond.  "  We're 
going  to  duck  you  in  the  pond,"  said  Pete;  "that's  what  we 
do  with  Hilligenlei  boys." 

"  Hundreds  are  there  already,"  said  Anna. 

He  did  not  scream,  only  looked  at  them  curiously.  Pete 
held  on  to  his  jacket;  Anna,  lying  full  length  on  the  grass,  had 
his  ankles  fast. 

"  Tell  us  a  story,  or  into  the  pond  you  go." 

"About  Pe  Ontjes  Lau?"  he  said,  quickly. 

"  We  know  him,  a  hateful  boy." 

"  He's  as  big  again  as  I  am,"  Kai  went  on,  "  and  stands  on 
the  pier,  looking  over  the  water,  with  a  woollen  cap  on,  and 
he's  going  to  be  a  captain.  Then  he'll  go  far,  far  away, 
and " 

"  He  doesn't  know  any  more,"  said  Pete. 

"  And  I  shall  go  with  him  far  away.  There  are  lions  and 
elephants,  and  I  shall  be  a  king  there.  Yes." 

Anna  brushed  her  fair  hair  back  from  her  forehead  and 
looked  at  him  with  more  interest. 

The  boy  got  hot  and  excited,  twittering  with  big,  wonder- 
ing eyes  like  a  young  lark  who  uses  its  wings  for  the  first  time 
when  it  has  been  frightened  out  of  its  nest  in  the  furrow  by 
a  weasel,  and  as  soon  as  it  sees  that  it  can  fly  forgets  all  its 
fear  in  the  joy  of  this  wonderful  new  power. 

"  There  I  build  a  house  for  myself  that  reaches  up  to  the 
sky,  all  made  of  gold,  and  in  it  there  live  my  father  and  mother, 
and  Pe  Ontjes  Lau,  and  all  the  other  people  in  the  world,  and 
do  nothing  but  laugh  and  sing  and  enjoy  themselves.  Nobody 
has  a  cough  there.  Nobody  dies.  Will  you  come  too?  " 

His  clever  east-country  face  was  irradiated  with  kindness. 

The  girl  pulled  his  foot  so  that  he  fell  down,  and,  picking 
up  the  badly  plaited  rush  hat,  crammed  it  on  his  head. 
'  There's  a  crown  for  you,"  she  said. 

He  did  not  mind.  "  If  you  like  you  may  come  too,"  he  said, 
his  eyes  sparkling  with  kindness.  "Would  you  like  it?" 

"  Me,  too,"  said  Pete,  standing  up.     He  saw  that  more  tre- 


38  HOLYLAND 

mendous  thoughts  were  coming  to  the  fair-headed  boy  with 
the  quick  eyes.  Looking  wildly  round  like  someone  suddenly 
awakened,  he  jumped  up  and  ran  through  the  kitchen  into  the 
sitting-room,  the  other  two  after  him. 

"  We  have  been  quite  good,"  he  said  at  once  in  a  loud 
voice. 

"  He  wants  to  be  a  king,"  said  Anna.     "  That's  his  crown." 

The  teacher  took  his  children  by  the  fair  hair  and  said, 
"  And  what  do  you  want  to  be  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  know,"  said  she,  "  we  want  to  be  neighbour  Mar- 
tin ;  have  as  many  horses  and  cows  as  he  has." 

"Suppose  I  haven't  any  money?" 

"  That  doesn't  matter,"  said  Anna,  "  if  we  must  be  neigh- 
bour Martin !  " 

"Who  says  that  you  must?"  said  Boje,  in  an  almost  irri- 
tated voice. 

"  God  says  so,"  they  both  replied. 

"  Get  away,"  he  said,  angrily.  "  You  always  end  up  with 
that.  You  make  God  the  servant  of  your  own  wills." 

He  turned  them  both  out.  As  they  stood  in  the  doorway 
the  sun  fell  on  the  fair,  defiant  heads,  and  their  hair  shone  like 
the  wood  of  a  new-cut  ash-tree. 

"  The  children  are  a  great  trouble  to  us,  Mala,"  said  Hella. 
"  They  are  dear,  good  children,  but  so  impetuous,  so  quick 
to  anger,  full  of  such  ideas!  If  we  were  people  of  consequence 
and  well  off  they  might  do  great  things,  but  we  are  poor,  even 
in  debt.  If  they  rush  out  into  life,  out  of  such  narrow  sur- 
roundings, full  of  this  wild  eagerness,  they  will  dash  them- 
selves against  fearful  obstacles ;  they  will  find  the  way  hard  and 
a  cold  wind  blowing  against  them;  they  will  make  themselves 
hot  with  running,  and  then  they  will  fall.  Boje  and  I  were 
just  the  same,  with  our  heads  full  of  lofty  ideas.  What  won- 
derful things  I  used  to  see  in  my  little  room  on  the  dyke !  Well, 
the  greatest  wonder  of  all  came  true  for  us;  we  saw  and  be- 
longed to  one  another,  and  so  we  are  quiet  and  contented. 
But  can  such  good  fortune  fall  to  our  children  ?  " 

Little  Mala  Jans  looked  shyly  from  one  to  the  other  and 
thought,  "  What  have  six  short  years  made  of  the  two  young 
things  who  pressed  each  other's  hands  secretly  at  Ringerang's 
party,  thinking  of  nothing  but  possessing  one  another!  " 

She  got  up  and  said  she  must  go,  or  Harbourmaster  Lau 


HOLYLAND  39 

would  be  waiting  for  her,  and  there  was  supper  to  be  got  ready. 
She  said  goodbye,  and  left  the  house  with  her  boy. 

When  Thomas  Jans  came  home  at  night  with  his  spade 
and  heard  of  the  trouble  they  had  at  the  schoolhouse  from  the 
masterfulness  of  the  children,  his  deep-set  eyes  sparkled  as  he 
sat  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  table,  and  he  said,  in  joke, 
"Then  we  need  have  no  trouble;  our  boy  is  as  meek  as  a 
whipped  cur!  " 

Mala  Jans  flew  out  at  that.  "  You  have  no  eyes  and  ears 
then,"  said  she,  and  went  on  to  tell  him,  in  a  shy,  trembling 
voice,  of  her  boy's  inner  life,  and  how  he  had  said  he  wanted 
to  be  a  king.  "  He  is  every  bit  as  proud,  only  in  a  different 
way,  as  the  Boje  children.  His  pride  is  deep,  deep  down.  His 
is  a  different  sort  of  kingdom." 

"What  sort?"  said  Thomas,  astonished.  "What  sort  of 
one?  One  in  the  moon,  perhaps." 

The  next  day  he  picked  up  courage  for  the  first  time  to  go 
into  the  middle  of  the  street  and  peer  into  the  dark  smithy, 
where  conversation  reigned  for  once  instead  of  the  clang  of 
the  hammer  and  the  roar  of  the  furnace.  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  saw 
him  come  out,  and  said,  "  Come  inside."  So  he  went  in  and 
looked  about  him.  On  the  anvil  sat  Jeff,  huge  and  black  in 
his  messy  leather  apron,  with  his  hammer  tucked  away  com- 
fortably under  his  arm.  Scheinhold,  the  journeyman,  stood  at 
the  bellows.  All  three  were  looking  at  Tjark  Dusenschon, 
who  sat  on  the  lathe  dangling  his  legs  and  moving  his  bare 
feet  up  and  down. 

"  Why  shouldn't  I  wear  the  green  handkerchief  if  the  mayor 
gave  it  to  me?  "  said  Tjark. 

"  It's  not  true,"  said  Pe  Ontjes.  '  The  money  came  from 
his  grandmother.  Listen  to  his  'mayor';  how  he  says  it! 
Call  him  Daniel  Peters;  all  Hilligenlei  calls  him  so,  silly." 

"The  mayor  gave  it  you,  did  he?"  said  Jeff,  raising  his 
eyebrows.  "  So,  so  "  —  his  stiff  apron  made  a  noise  like  the 
falling-in  of  a  mine  when  he  moved  —  "so;  then  I  must  re- 
turn to  my  old  opinion,  anyhow." 

"What  opinion,  sir?"  asked  Scheinhold,  blinking  as  if  some 
buzzing  insect  had  got  inside  his  eyes. 

"  Shut  up,"  said  Jeff.  "  I'm  not  talking  to  you.  My  old 
opinion  is  that  Tjark  Dusenschon  is  the  mayor's  natural  son, 


40  HOLYLAND 

so  now  you  know.  If  we  only  had  the  postcard.  It  was  wrong 
of  you,  Pe  Ontjes,  to  throw  it  into  the  harbour." 

Pe  Ontjes  nodded  slowly.  "  Go  on,  go  on.  He  is  half- 
cracked  already.  You'll  drive  him  stark  mad." 

Tjark  was  happy  at  being  once  more  the  subject  of  conver- 
sation, and  he  turned  about,  dangling  his  wide  trousers  and 
turning  back  his  big  toes  in  a  way  that  terrified  little  Kai 
Jans. 

"  Look  at  his  legs,"  said  Jeff.  "  Whose  legs  are  like  that, 
as  straight  as  a  lance?  The  mayor's,  of  course;  and  who  else 
is  so  arrogant  ?  " 

The  journeyman,  Scheinhold,  rubbed  his  eyes  and  said,  "  It 
may  be  because  of  his  royal  blood." 

Pe  Ontjes  got  up  to  go.  "  This  drivel  is  too  much  for  me. 
What  is  he  ?  A  child  born  out  of  wedlock,  whose  grandmother 
is  an  old  idiot,  and  whom  Rieke  Thomson  scolds  daily  for 
never  having  paid  her  fifteen  pence,  that's  what  he  is." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jeff,  creaking  his  leather  apron.  "  I  grant  you 
the  present  is  dark,  but  a  star  of  hope  is  shining." 

"  Well,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  "  are  you  thinking  of  paying  the  fif- 
teen pence  for  him  ?  " 

The  master  sadly  shook  his  head.  "  I  can't.  You  know 
that.  I  have  a  wife  and  children,  and  debts  to  pay.  But  you're 
right.  As  long  as  the  midwife's  fee  isn't  paid  he  cuts  a  sorry 
figure.  To  put  it  properly,  he  isn't  a  citizen." 

"  Every  day  the  fat  old  witch  scolds  me,"  said  Tjark,  look- 
ing about  with  his  shining  brown  eyes.  "  I'm  no  good  while 
that  goes  on." 

"  You  could  have  paid  the  fifteen  pence  yourself  long  ago 
if  you  had  wanted  to,"  said  Pe  Ontjes.  "  A  boy  of  fifteen  can 
earn  fifteen  pence,  but  you  must  go  and  buy  a  green  handker- 
chief, or  else  a  striped  blue  or  red  cap  off  a  boy  at  the  gram- 
mar school,  or  something  stupid  of  that  sort." 

"  Suppose  I  am  the  mayor's  son,"  said  Tjark,  his  eyes  spark- 
ling. "  I  can't  go  about  the  town  like  every  Tom,  Dick,  and 
Harry." 

"Right  again,"  said  Jeff. 

Pe  Ontjes  got  up  and  made  for  the  door  once  more.  "  I 
won't  have  anything  more  to  do  with  you,"  he  said ;  "  you  are 
cracked,  all  three  of  you.  Come  away,  Kai,"  and  he  went 
towards  his  home.  After  a  few  steps,  however,  he  came  to  a 


HOLYLAND  41 

standstill,  stood  for  a  moment  lost  in  thought,  and  then,  in  a 
decided  voice,  "  Yes,  that  is  the  best  way.  I  will  clear  the 
business  right  out,  Tjark." 

Tjark  leapt  out  of  the  smithy,  barelegged  and  speechless. 
"  I  cannot  go  on  any  longer  hearing  the  endless  cursing  and 
complaining  about  your  old  fee.  It's  gone  on  for  years.  I 
mean  to  make  an  end  of  it." 

"  I  shall  be  grateful  to  you  for  ever,"  said  Tjark. 

"  Don't  be  anything  of  the  sort,  silly.  Grateful  ?  Is  a  man 
grateful?  Grateful  is  the  word  you  hear  in  school,  but  a 
healthy  man  isn't  grateful." 

He  felt  in  his  purse,  and  then  struck  across  the  dyke  with 
the  two  others  to  the  long  house.  Then  he  said  to  Kai  Jans, 
"  Just  run  in  and  see  if  she  is  in  her  big  chair  and  if  she's  got 
her  foot-warmer,  and  if  she's  thinking,  and  if  she's  got  her 
slippers  handy  for  throwing.  Say  something  and  just  shove  the 
slippers  a  bit  out  of  the  way,  then  come  back  and  leave  the 
door  open." 

The  little  fellow  went  in,  came  out  again,  and  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  "  It's  all  right." 

Then  Pe  Ontjes  drew  a  deep  breath,  rushed  into  the  room, 
and,  raising  his  clenched  fist,  almost  drove  the  fifteen  pence 
into  the  board.  "  There  are  the  fifteen  pence  that  Tjark 
Dusenschon  owes  you,  and  now  let  your  confounded  cursing 
be  at  an  end." 

The  old  woman  had  leant  back  in  horror.  Then,  appearing 
on  the  threshold,  "  You  weathercock,"  from  the  distance  Tjark 
cried  out  in  an  injured  tone,  "  you  are  to  say  no  more  of  that 
now!" 

"What?"  cried  the  old  woman.  "Say  no  more  about  it? 
For  a  vagabond  like  you  —  other  people  have  to  pay  your  fee 
for  you.  Is  that  Kai  Jans  with  you?  H'm,  he's  beginning 
early.  He'll  come  to  no  good.  Just  come  in  here,  you  vaga- 
bond." 

Pe  Ontjes  shook  his  head,  and  said,  dejectedly,  "  The  fifteen 
pence  are  thrown  away."  Then  suddenly  his  anger  rose. 
Drumming  on  his  legs  with  both  fists,  he  shouted,  "  Never 
again  will  I  bother  about  that  wretched  Tjark  Dusenschon. 
Where  is  he  gone?" 

Sniffing   danger,   he   had    fled   to   his   grandmother's   door. 


42  HOLYLAND 

Stiena  Dusenschon  stood  there  with  waving  bonnet  strings. 
"  Tj-a-ark,  Tjark,  come  to  your  granny." 

"  I  will  tell  you  something,"  said  Pe  Ontjes  to  Kai.  "  In 
the  future  I  shall  only  have  to  do  with  you." 

The  little  fellow  looked  happily  up  at  him.  "  Yes ;  then  you 
must  promise  to  take  me  with  you  when  you  are  a  captain." 

"  You  are  a  funny  one,"  said  Pe  Ontjes.  "And  where  do 
you  want  to  go  to?  " 

"Ah!  that  you  shall  see,"  he  said,  earnestly.  "Do  you 
know,  we  shall  go  to  —  oh !  to  a  glorious  country,"  and  in  his 
eagerness  he  stamped  -  on  the  ground. 

"  Done,  then,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder. 
He  began  to  be  fond  of  the  little  fellow,  and  took  him  about 
with  him  everywhere.  And  the  little  fellow  grew  strong  in  his 
company. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  teacher  at  the  harbour  school  had  to  be  a  very  conscien- 
tious man,  for  the  school  hours  were  arranged  to  fit  the  tides 
so  that  the  children  of  the  sailors  and  fishermen  could  help 
their  parents ;  strong,  too,  for  the  boys  used  to  come,  some  bare- 
footed, some  in  clattering  slippers,  some  in  heavy  boots;  they 
came  in  leather  breeches  and  shirt-sleeves;  their  voices  were 
loud  and  unmodulated ;  their  skulls  were  somewhat  thick. 

It  was  a  hot  summer  afternoon.  The  boys  lay,  in  their 
shirt-sleeves,  lazily  spread-eagled  on  the  desks,  pretending  to 
be  entirely  absorbed  in  the  writing-lesson;  the  girls  lifted  their 
books  from  time  to  time  and  fanned  themselves.  Max  Wieber, 
likewise  in  his  shirt-sleeves,  sat  stolidly  behind  his  desk,  leaning 
his  bullet  head,  surrounded  by  fiery-red  hair,  against  the  black- 
board on  the  wall  behind  him.  It  was  a  constant  temptation 
to  think  of  tea  to  be  enjoyed  with  his  wife  when  school  was 
over,  under  the  lime  tree,  but  he  wrestled  with  the  temptation, 
conquering  it  each  time  with  a  new  text.  "  Work  while  it  is 
yet  day,"  he  murmured,  slightly  bending  his  big  head  and  tak- 
ing up  the  red  pencil  and  a  new  exercise  book. 

After  a  while  his  wife's  face  appeared  on  the  green  at  the 
end  of  the  passage.  "  It's  so  hot,"  she  said. 

"  Let  not  a  woman  speak  in  the  assembly,"  he  whispered 
quickly,  shaking  his  mane,  and  this  temptation  was  over  in  its 
turn. 

Then  up  got  Pe  Ontjes,  first  on  the  boys'  side,  and  said,  in 
his  hoarse,  manly  voice,  "  We  were  to  get  back  our  exercises 
to-day."  Not  that  Pe  Ontjes  was  in  the  least  curious  to  see 
his  own  exercise;  he  merely  wanted  to  put  some  life  into  the 
proceedings. 

Max  Wieber  had  an  unconscious  inclination  to  do  whatever 
Pe  Ontjes  proposed  with  his  calm,  self-confident  air.  He  took 
the  great  pile  of  blue  exercise  books  and  said,  in  his  droning 
voice,  "  The  subject  was  '  The  Story  of  a  Drop  of  Water.'  I 

43 


44  HOLYLAND 

said  that  the  drop  of  water  was  to  come  in  with  the  tide,  and 
then  relate  all  that  it  saw  in  the  bay  of  Helligenlei ;  then,  evap- 
orating in  the  harbour,  it  was  to  rise  up  in  mist,  to  fall  down 
again  as  a  drop  of  rain,  and  flow  down  the  street  into  the  sea 
once  more.  In  your  work  you  were  to  show,  you  vagabonds, 
your  understanding  of  how  clouds  and  rain  come  to  be.  Well, 
here  is  Kai  Jans'  exercise  —  Kai  Jans  —  there  is  something  very 
peculiar  in  that  boy.  Sometimes  he  is  the  cleverest  in  the  school, 
and  sometimes  far  the  stupidest.  If  you  ask  him  about  the 
moon  he  knows  what  sort  of  men  live  there  and  how  they  get 
their  boots  soled ;  but  stick  his  nose  into  a  thorn-bush,  and  he 
doesn't  know  what  it  is.  Pe  Ontjes,  stop  laughing  in  that 
stupid  way." 

Max  Wieber  picked  up  his  eyeglasses  from  the  desk  with 
two  sharp  fingers,  put  them  on  his  nose,  and  picked  up  the 
exercise  to  read  it  out.  Then  Kai  Jans  got  up,  in  the  third 
row,  anxious  entreaty  in  his  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

He  opened  his  mouth,  but  sat  down  without  saying  any- 
thing. 

"  Well,  the  raindrop  rises  from  the  harbour  in  mist.  '  But 
now  a  tremendous  west  wind  rose.  It  drove  the  cloud,  where 
the  drop  was,  thousands  of  miles  eastward,  and  when  it  was 
over  St.  Petersburg  it  saw  the  Emperor  of  Russia  driving  with 
his  wife  in  a  coach  of  gold,  driving  as  fast  as  the  cloud,  ever 
eastwards.  So  they  came  to  Siberia.  And  there  the  raindrop 
saw  the  Emperor  set  all  the  prisoners  free.  And  it  fell  straight 
into  the  well  from  which  the  Chinese  Emperor  has  his  water 
drawn.  Then  his  servant-maid  came  and  took  the  drop"  out  of 
the  well  in  her  pail,  and  dipped  a  cup  into  the  pail,  and  gave 
it  to  the  Emperor  to  drink.  And  so  he  drank  up  the  drop.  He 
had  been  a  wicked  man,  but  now  he  became  good,  for  the  drop, 
which  came  from  the  holy  bay,  was  holy.'  " 

Most  of  them  sniggered.  A  few  of  the  girls  looked  with 
wondering  eyes  across  to  Kai,  whose  brown  hair  covered  such 
marvellous  things. 

"  Stop  laughing  in  that  stupid  way.  Kai  Jans  is  a  wonderful 
boy  —  yes.  Generally,  he's  as  shy  as  a  little  hare;  then,  hey, 
presto!  he's  a  great,  wild  thing,  strikes  behind  him  and  in 
front  of  him,  and  has  all  Paradise  at  his  disposal  —  all  Para- 


HOLYLAND  45 

disc,  indeed !     Next  time  you'll  confine  your  thoughts  to  Hilli- 
genlei,  do  you  hear?  " 

He  laid  the  exercise  down  and  took  up  another. 
"  Well,  Kai  Jans  at  least  stuck  to  the  drop  of  water.  But 
Pe  Ontjes  Lau  —  Pe  Ontjes  Lau!  You  imagine  Pe  Ontjes 
Lau  is  head  boy  in  the  Hilligenlei  harbour  school?  He's  far 
more  than  that;  he's  harbourmaster  of  Hilligenlei,  and,  more 
than  that,  he's  mayor  of  Hilligenlei.  Well,  his  drop  of  water 
comes  swimming  into  the  bay  with  the  tide  all  right.  Then  he 
becomes  too  preposterous.  He  uses  words  that  I  know  well 
enough.  You  and  your  father,  you  vagabond,  have  done  the 
exercise  together.  '  Then  the  drop  of  water  saw  that  the  har- 
bour stream  got  narrower  and  narrower,  so  that  a  decent-sized 
cutter  could  not  possibly  come  though.  Klaus  Voss'  Joanna 
was  stuck  for  two  tides  off  the  Danish  sandbank,  and  could  not 
stir.  It  is  a  fearful  piece  of  stupidity  for  a  town  to  allow  its 
harbour  to  be  choked ;  it's  like  tying  a  string  round  a  pig's  nose 
when  you  want  to  fatten  it;  it  gets  thinner  and  thinner,  till 
it  is  like  two  boards  fastened  together,  and  finally  dies.  Thus 
you  see  Hilligenlei  getting  poorer  and  stupider  every  day.'  I 
haven't  the  least  objection  to  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  having  the  har- 
bour stream  cut  out  when  he  is  once  mayor,  but  I  shall  give 
him  a  good  spanking  for  talking  as  big  as  if  he  were  mayor 
when  he  isn't  anything  of  the  sort,  yet.  Now  we  will  have  a 
short  interval." 

With  these  words  Max  walked  serenely  down  the  middle 
passage  out  of  the  schoolroom,  to  have  a  chat  with  his  wife. 

Turning  round  on  his  form,  Pe  Ontjes  found  the  eyes  of  all 
the  bigger  boys  upon  him.  "  Children,"  said  he,  "  let  come 
what  may,  I  am  not  going  to  give  the  old  fellow  the  pleasure 
of  walloping  me  to-day;  I'm  off.  Tide's  low  at  four.  Who's 
coming?  " 

'  That  means  an   awful  thrashing,"  they  said. 

'  Who's  coming?  "  said  Pe  Ontjes. 

1  Me,"  said  Kai   Jans. 

'You?" 

'  He  read  out  my  exercise;  that's  why  I'm  coming." 

Five  went  with  him.  There  were  the  Tarns,  the  fisherman's 
two  boys  (one  of  them  died  young,  as  a  sailor,  in  a  fearful 
wreck;  the  other  is  now  a  fisherman  on  Lake  Ontario)  ;  the 
shepherd's  two  boys  (both  of  whom  afterwards  served  on  the 


46  HOLYLAND 

Russian  frontier,  and  are  now  dock  labourers,  as  strong  as 
ever,  and  as  ready  for  any  sort  of  spree),  and  Kai  Jans.  Tjark 
Dusenschon  had  slunk  out,  and  watched  them  disappear  from 
behind  the  shed. 

They  made  their  way  through  the  garden  into  the  street, 
crossed  the  dyke,  and  so  ran  over  the  green  plain  —  a  wide, 
absolutely  level  plain  covered  with  beautiful  short  grass.  Not 
a  house  or  a  tree  anywhere,  only  here  and  there  a  herd  of  heavy 
cattle  or  a  group  of  splendid  colts.  Across  it  the  little  band  of 
children  trotted.  In  the  distance,  at  thd  edge,  from  time  to 
time  a  solitary  flash  from  a  workman's  spade.  Overhead  the 
sky,  endlessly  high,  endlessly  broad. 

They  soon  got  to  the  edge  of  the  green  plain,  and  then  in 
they  went,  over  their  ankles,  up  to  their  knees,  in  the  grey  mud. 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  groaning,  complaining,  and  bragging, 
and  then  out  they  came  on  to  firm  ground  once  more  that 
seemed  to  extend  right  to  the  far,  far  distant  horizon,  where 
a  narrow  strip  of  silver  lay. 

They  talked  about  everything  they  saw  —  the  bird  that  flew 
past,  the  sail  on  the  horizon,  the  Danish  sandbank,  where  the 
treasure  ship  lay  buried  that  would  some  day  be  discovered, 
for  the  sand  was  breaking  away.  "  And  then  Hilligenlei  will 
be  ever  so  rich." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Pe  Ontjes.  "  It's  true  there  is  a  Danish 
ship,  but  there's  no  gold  in  it;  nothing  but  wood." 

When  they  saw  anything  in  the  distance  each  of  them  said 
what  he  thought  it  was.  They  examined  everything  they  found 
—  a  plank  end,  a  broken  chest,  a  basket  that  the  steward  of 
the  liner  had  cast  overboard  —  and  there  was  eager  conversa- 
tion about  it  all.  It  seemed  endless,  the  way,  but  at  last  they 
got  to  the  harbour  stream.  The  tide  was  out,  but  it  was  still 
sixty  yards  wide,  flowing  slowly  down  to  the  sea  in  its  bed  of 
grey  mud. 

The  others  beean  to  search  in  the  shelving  edge  of  the  sand 
on  the  chance  that  the  prow  of  the  treasure  ship  or  its  taffrail 
might  be  sticking  out.  Pe  Ontjes  and  Kai  were  gazing  at  a 
short,  green  strip  on  the  water  to  the  far  side  of  the  stream, 
and  the  others  soon  looked  over  too. 

"  Look!  "  they  said;  "  a  little  island." 

"  Kai  Jans  discovered  it  last  Sunday,"  said  Pe  Ontjes.  "  He 
Stuck  up  a  stake  and  wrote  on  it,  '  This  land  was  discovered  by 


HOLYLAND  47 

me,'  and  then  his  name.  The  stake  is  still  there,  but  the  bit 
of  wood  you  wrote  on  is  gone,  Kai!  " 

At  that  moment  a  shout  of  childish  joy  came  clearly  across. 
All  gazed  in  astonishment.  Pe  Ontjes  began  to  yell,  "  Coo-ee, 
coo-ee." 

Up  rose  two  fair-haired  children,  about  ten  years  old,  both 
bare-footed,  the  girl  in  a  sleeveless  dress  that  fluttered  in  the 
wind,  the  boy  in  his  shirt  and  knickers. 

'*  There  are  Anna  and  Pete  Boje,"  said  Kai. 

"  Ha!  "  cried  Pe  Ontjes,  "  what  are  you  doing  there?  Will 
you  get  out  of  there  ?  Kai  Jans  has  discovered  the  island !  " 

Then  Pete  cried  across  in  his  high,  clear  voice,  "  I  have 
taken  possession !  " 

"  Golly!  "  cried  Pe  Ontjes,  stripping  off  shirt  and  trousers, 
and  getting  into  the  water. 

The  big  Tarns  boy  stood  in  his  shirt  too.  "  Oh!  Pe  Ontjes," 
cried  Kai,  "  don't ;  that's  the  Friestadt  side." 

"  Come  on,"  cried  Pe  Ontjes. 

"  I  can't;   the  current  is  too  strong." 

Pete  Boje  stood  on  the  stake,  his  legs  wide  apart,  trying  to 
persuade  his  sister  to  run  away;  but  she  stayed  beside  him. 
The  two  big  boys  swam  across,  got  on  land,  and  rushed  upon 
them.  Kai  saw  Pete  picking  up  mud  to  throw  at  the  naked 
assailants,  and  Tarns,  too,  picked  some  up  and  threw  it  so 
as  to  hit  the  girl  on  the  ear  and  hair.  The  force  with  which  it 
was  thrown  made  her  bend  her  head. 

Then  he  shouted  across  the  stream,  "  Dear  Pe  Ontjes,  come 
to  meet  me,"  and  running  into  the  water  just  as  he  was,  he 
began  to  swim. 

Pe  Ontjes  had  turned  round  as  if  seized  by  a  heavy  hand. 
It  seemed  to  go  right  through  him,  this  "  dear,  wonderful  boy." 
He  ran  to  the  water  to  meet  him  swimming,  as  he  always  did, 
with  eyes  wide  open,  spitting  out  the  salt.  In  the  middle  of 
the  stream  he  turned  round  and  swam  across  Kai's  way  to  keep 
off  the  force  of  the  current.  Kai  swam  on  bravely,  breathing 
hard,  his  eyebrows  drawn  down  and  his  mouth  shut  tight,  and 
got  safely  to  land.  The  big  Tarns  boy  had  picked  up  little 
Pete,  and  was  shaking  him  grievously. 

The  little  fellow  looked  at  him  in  determined  silence  as  if 
to  say,  "  I  can't  defend  myself,  but  I  can  show  you  I'm  not 
afraid." 


48  HOLYLAND 

"  Hold  him  tight,"  said  Pe  Ontjes. 

"  How  could  you  hit  a  little  girl?"  said  Kai,  standing  in 
front  of  the  tall  Tarns  boy  with  clenched  fists  and  sparkling 
eyes.  "  Come,  and  I'll  wash  you,"  he  said  to  her. 

She  was  as  defiant  as  her  brother,  though  —  pushed  his  hand 
away  with  angry  looks.  In  spite  of  her  fair  hair  and  her  light- 
gray  eyes,  she  looked  scowling  enough. 

"  I  only  swam  across  to  help  you,  and  I  was  nearly 
drowned." 

"  Are  you  the  boy  who  came  the  day  Heinke  was  born?  " 

"Yes,"  said  he;  "do  you  recognize  me?"  Dipping  his 
hand  in  the  water,  he  shyly  brushed  the  mud  off  her  hair  and 
ear.  "  It's  just  as  well  I  did  come." 

She  looked  round  at  her  brother.  "  Tell  the  big  Lau  boy 
not  to  hurt  my  brother." 

"  I  say,"  cried  Pe  Ontjes,  "  come  here  a  minute;  they  have 
found  a  big  eel ;  it  must  weigh  at  least  a  pound." 

Pete  Boje  looked  with  disgust  at  the  eel  playing  awkwardly 
in  the  wet  sand.  "You  can't  hold  him;  he's  so  slippery." 

"What?"  said  Pe  Ontjes.  He  made  his  fingers  into  a 
hook,  picked  the  eel  up  by  the  neck,  and,  looking  wildly  about 
him  for  a  moment,  bit  the  eel's  head  off  and  spat  it  out. 

Anna  Boje  gave  a  loud,  shrill  scream,  shaking  herself  so  that 
her  short,  loose  dress  blew  hither  and  thither.  "  Little  pig," 
she  cried,  standing  stiff  with  horror.  "  Get  away,  you  pig! 
What  a  disgusting  thing  you  are." 

He  pretended  he  wanted  to  eat  her  next,  jumping  round 
her,  gnashing  his  teeth. 

She  shrank  back,  holding  her  arm  before  her  face,  abusing 
him  all  the  time.  "  You're  the  most  horrible  person  in  the 
world,  you  —  you  eel-eater !  " 

"  If  you  touch  her,"  said  Pete,  "  I'll  hit  you.  I'm  littler 
than  you,  but  you  won't  find  me  so  easy  to  deal  with,  for  all 
that." 

"  Come,  Pe  Ontjes,"  said  Kai,  "  take  your  eel,  and  let's  go 
back  again." 

"  They're  a  couple  of  boobies,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  looking  at 
them  well-pleased,  and  turning  away. 

So  they  threw  themselves  into  the  water  again,  Tarns  on 
the  left,  Kai  in  the  middle,  Pe  Ontjes  to  the  right,  keeping  off 
the  current,  with  the  eel  stuck  in  his  mouth,  shaking  his  head 


HOLYLAND  49 

vigorously,  and  puffing  and  blowing  with  tremendous  energy. 
When  they  got  up  on  to  the  bank  beside  the  others  and  looked 
about  them  they  saw  the  two  children  standing  side  by  side, 
all  alone  in  the  vast  empty  greyness  lit  here  and  there  by  daz- 
zling rays  of  sunshine  that  fell  upon  their  hair. 

The  girl  raised  her  hand  threateningly,  and  her  brave  little 
voice  rang  across  in  clear  defiance,  "  Eel-eater,  eel-eater !  " 

"  The  girl  is  as  wild  as  the  boy,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  hollowing 
his  hand  to  shout  back,  "  You  shall  be  my  wife!  Do  you  like 
the  prospect  ?  " 

But  back  came  the  same  scornful  word,  clear  and  sharp  as 
the  flight  of  an  angry  bird. 

Next  morning,  when  Pe  Ontjes  went  down  the  street  to 
school,  his  fellow  culprits  came  out  from  the  doorways,  or  from 
within  the  houses,  and  joined  him.  All  were  quiet,  and  avoided 
looking  at  one  another.  Pe  Ontjes  himself  did  not  seem  in  a 
very  elated  mood.  When  they  came  into  the  schoolyard  he 
turned  round  and  said,  gravely,  "  Boys,  this  is  our  death-ride !  " 
In  school  they  had  read  of  the  ride  of  Mars  la  Tour. 

He  burst  the  door  open  and  walked  in. 

Max  Wieber  held  fast  to  the  desk,  crossed  his  cane  in  front 
of  him,  and  said  an  inward  prayer,  as  he  always  did  before 
striking.  As  a  boy  he  had  broken  a  comrade's  arm  in  his  rage. 
In  turn  they  got  a  good  thrashing.  When  he  came,  last  of  all, 
to  Kai  Jans  he  asked  him,  "  What  did  you  stand  up  for  yester- 
day? What  did  you  want?" 

Kai  said  in  a  low  voice,  entreaty  in  his  eyes,  "  I  wanted  to 
ask  you  not  to  read  mine  out.  I  can't  bear  their  laughing  at 
me,  and.  they  do  it  so  often." 

He  hesitated  a  moment,  then  thrashed  him  too. 

When  it  was  over  he  lifted  up  his  cane  to  threaten  the 
whole  street,  saying,  sternly,  "  Woe  to  you  if  you  laugh  at 
Kai  Jans.  What  is  it  to  you  if  he  has  all  Paradise  in  himself 
and  the  angel  Gabriel  to  boot?  Are  you  going  to  drive  him 
out  of  Paradise,  you  vagabonds?  Leave  that  to  God." 


CHAPTER  V. 

BY  the  first  of  March  Pe  Ontjes  had  his  whole  outfit  ready. 
He  did  not  need  a  new  chest,  but  took  his  father's,  which  had 
been  used  as  a  wood-box  for  the  last  sixteen  years  in  that  slovenly 
household.  He  painted  it  brown  with  his  own  hands,  bought 
a  new  lock,  and  packed  it  as  neatly  as  possible.  Keys  in  pocket, 
he  sat  on  his  form  with  an  expression  of  great  boredom.  The 
day  after  Palm  Sunday  he  was  to  go  on  board  the  ship  Gude 
Wife  at  Hamburg. 

One  might  have  thought  he  would  start  without  a  single 
regret,  but  no!  When  he  looked  to  one  side  there  sat  Tjark 
Dusenschon,  tall  and  thin,  with  restless  shoulders  and  eyes 
twinkling  with  friendliness.  He  was  to  be  confirmed,  too,  on 
Palm  Sunday,  but  his  things  were  very  far  from  being  ready. 
He  did  not  even  know  what  he  wanted  to  be. 

True,  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  had  once  said,  "  I  will  trouble  my 
head  no  more  about  Tjark."  But  is  it  ever  possible  to  do  that? 
Hasn't  one  got  to  trouble  about  him?  One  has  to  say  to  him, 
sooner  or  later,  "  Don't  laugh  in  that  sugary  way,  fellow,"  and 
"  Don't  tell  lies,  anyhow,"  or  another  day,  "  Where  did  you 
get  that  cap  and  that  scarf,  pray?  "  The  only  alternative  to 
troubling  oneself  about  Tjark  was  killing  him  outright. 

There  was  deep  consultation  in  the  smithy.  Jeff  Buhmann 
did  not  know  what  to  say;  he  was  greatly  puzzled.  "  He's 
no  good  —  too  lazy,"  he  said. 

Pe  Ontjes  did  not  know  what  to  say;  he  was  greatly  an- 
noyed. "  He's  as  lazy  as  you,  and  he  has  another  fault  besides 
—  he's  magnificent.  He  has  an  absurd  idea  of  himself." 

Scheinhold,  the  apprentice,  did  not  know  what  to  say,  he  was 
vague,  and  looked  about  him  suspiciously.  "  We  must  send 
him  out  into  the  world,  just  as  he  is.  I  expect  he'll  discover 
some  new  trade  —  something  between  a  tight-rope  dancer  and 
a  blacksmith.  If  so,  lots  of  people  will  find  work." 

Tjark  sat  in  the  midst  of  them,  on  the  anvil,  in  a  costume 

So 


HOLYLAND  51 

that  came  from  various  sources,  and  grey  stockings.  Round 
his  long  neck  was  a  red  scarf  with  long,  dangling  ends ;  on  his 
head  a  battered  old  first-form  cap;  his  slippers  had  fallen  off. 
Dangling  his  feet  and  twisting  his  toes,  he  regarded  them  all 
with  eyes  twinkling  with  friendliness. 

Kai  Jans,  feeling  rather  young  and  inexperienced  to  take  part 
in  an  affair  of  such  importance,  sat  sideways  on  the  vice  on  top 
of  the  nailbox,  silently  attentive  to  whoever  was  speaking. 

"  At  any  rate,  his  grandmother  has  been  to  the  vicar,"  said 
Jeff. 

"Grandmother!"  said  Pe  Ontjes.  "Good  Lord!  Stiena 
Dusenschon!  Of  course,  I  might  have  known  it."  He  swayed 
his  shoulders  and  arms  solemnly,  smiling.  "  He  was  to  tell  her, 
then,  what  you  were  to  be?  " 

Tjark  was  not  in  the  least  hurt.  He  looked  at  his  feet, 
playing  hide  and  seek  with  his  toes. 

"  She  asked  the  vicar  whether  I  could  not  possibly  find  em- 
ployment with  some  nobleman,  as  an  equerry  or  chamberlain, 
or  something  of  that  sort." 

"  Well,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  a  mixture  of  scorn,  contempt,  and 
uncertainty  in  his  voice,  "  and  what  did  the  vicar  say?  " 

Tjark  lifted  up  his  eyebrows.  "  He  said  there  was  a  great 
deal  of  competition !  " 

"  Madness!  "  said  Pe  Ontjes,  much  relieved. 

"  It  must  be  something,"  said  Jeff,  "  where  he  can  wear 
grand  clothes  and  have  to  do  with  grand  people." 

"  There  mustn't  be  any  dirty  work,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  with 
profound  scorn.  "  Oh !  he  will  be  a  great  success." 

The  journeyman,  Scheinhold,  rubbed  his  eyes  like  the  skipper 
of  a  sailing  vessel  which  has  been  becalmed  for  three  days. 
"  If  I  may  be  allowed  to  speak,  he  ought  to  be  clerk  to  the 
mayor." 

Then,  indeed,  Jeff  shouted  aloud,  "  To  Daniel  Peters,  his 
natural  father!  Truly,  the  child  belongs  to  his  father!  Yes, 
indeed,  boys,  that's  it  —  he  is  to  be  clerk  to  Daniel  Peters!" 
He  put  his  great,  sooty  hand  up  to  his  eyes  as  if  he  were  look- 
ing at  a  landscape  bathed  in  sunshine.  "  Yes,  I  can  see  his  life's 
path  stretching  out  clear  before  my  eyes." 

Pe  Ontjes  looked  at  the  excited  smith  with  displeasure.  "  It 
would  be  better  if  you  would  think  of  what  is  to  be  done  now," 
he  said. 


52  HOLYLAND 

"  He  must  go  and  present  himself,"  said  Scheinhold. 

"  Yes,  it's  called  '  presenting,'  but  we  don't  know  yet  whether 
he  will." 

"Who?"   said  Pe  Ontjes. 

"Tjark?  whether  he  will?  As  if  we  should  ask  him.  He 
will  be  whatever  we  decide." 

"  But  I  can't  present  myself  in  these  clothes,"  said  Tjark, 
in  a  complaining  voice.  "  And  I  have  no  boots  at  all.  The 
mayor  is  a  grand  person,  too!  " 

They  looked  sadly  down.  Then  at  last  Scheinhold  lifted 
up  his  grey  head.  "  If  I  may  be  allowed  to  speak,  Nissen's 
old  coach  is  in  our  shed.  Suppose  we  were  to  sell  some  forty 
lottery  tickets,  at  a  shilling  each,  and  raffle  it  —  that  would 
give  us  money  for  a  suit  of  clothes  and  boots." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Jeff,  "  very  good,"  and  he  kept  on  nod- 
'ding  his  head  without  looking  up. 

Pe  Ontjes  was  not  satisfied.  "  It's  too  old,"  he  said.  "  As 
long  as  I  can  remember,  it  has  stood  there  in  that  dark  shed. 
We  might  go  and  see,  however." 

Jeff  and  his  journeyman  exchanged  a  long  look.  "  What 
for?  The  coach  is  there,  and  that  is  all  that  matters." 

"  One  can  always  say  there  is  a  coach  there,"  said  Schein- 
hold, without  lifting  his  head. 

"  It  used  to  belong  to  Mr.  Nissen.  When  we  went  bank- 
rupt he  gave  me  the  coach  to  settle  his  debt  to  me.  I  didn't 
care  about  selling  it,  however." 

"  You  couldn't  sell  it,"  said  Pe  Ontjes.  "  I  will  see  it,  or 
else  I'll  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  raffle." 

"  Forty  tickets,"  said  Tjark,  hastily,  "  at  a  shilling  each. 
That  would  get  me  everything,  even  a  couple  of  stand-up 
collars." 

"  As  usual,"  sighed  Jeff,  "  Tjark  is  confusing  net  and  gross. 
I  have  one  suggestion  to  make  about  the  old  lumber  —  about 
the  coach,  I  mean  —  forty  shillings  for  Tjark  and  forty  for 
me  make  eighty.  Don't  waste  time  in  talking,  but  get  the 
business  through."  He  laid  his  huge  hand  on  Pe  Ontjes'  knee. 
"  Just  think,"  he  said,  "  what  is  Tjark  to  be?  " 

Having  no  alternative  to  suggest,  Pe  Ontjes  calmed  down, 
and  they  all  set  to  work,  making  a  memorandum  of  the  ticket- 
holders  in  an  old  notebook,  and  cutting  eighty  lots  out  of  card- 
board. Then  Scheinhold  was  despatched  to  go  to  all  the 


HOLYLAND  53 

farmers  round  about  Hilligenlei  and  say  it  was  a  question  of 
getting  the  grandson  of  a  poor  widow  started  in  a  decent  pro- 
fession. Any  questions  asked  about  the  condition  of  the  coach 
must  be  answered  "  with  caution."  The  painful  thing  was 
that  not  one  of  those  present  bought  a  ticket.  Kai  had  no 
money.  Pe  Ontjes  said  he  was  not  gong  to  sink  any  capital 
in  such  a  shady  undertaking.  Jeff  declared  that,  as  owner  of 
the  coach,  he  was  doing  more  than  anyone  else;  nobody  could 
expect  him  to  give  cash  as  well.  Nissen,  the  baker,  who  hap- 
pened to  pass,  and  was  called  in,  was  willing  enough  to  take 
a  ticket  on  condition  that  he  only  paid  if  his  was^the  winning 
number  —  a  proposal  that  was  rejected  by  three  to  two. 
Scheinhold,  however,  did  take  a  ticket,  and  paid  ready  money 
for  it.  He  then  started  off. 

For  four  days,  now  with,  now  against,  the  bitter  March 
wind,  he  ran  round  Hilligenlei,  came  home  sober  every  evening, 
and  by  the  evening  of  the  fourth  day  had  exactly  the  eighty 
shillings  in  his  pocket.  Jeff  took  forty.  With  the  other  forty 
in  his  pocket,  and  Tjark  in  his  slippers  by  his  side,  Pe  Ontjes 
went  to  Lammann,  the  tailor,  and  ordered  a  suit  of  clothes, 
saying,  distinctly,  that  they  were  to  be  for  Tjark  here,  since  the 
tailor  had  the  reputation  of  making  all  suits  rather  after  his 
own  figure  —  he  being  short  and  bow-legged. 

They  had  then  to  consider  how  to  approach  the  mayor,  it  be- 
ing no  joke  to  manage  a  tall,  handsome  man  like  Daniel  Peters. 

At  last  Scheinhold  offered  to  undertake  this  part  of  the  busi- 
ness also,  if  he  were  given  three  days  to  do  it  in.  Pe  Ontjes 
was  very  eager  to  get  the  matter  settled  off,  for  when  spring 
came  and  the  warm  weather  neither  Jeff  nor  Scheinhold  could 
be  relied  upon  for  anything.  Jeff  was  irresistibly  drawn  to 
fishing-rods  and  flounder-nets,  Scheinhold  to  the  brandy  flask 
and  tramping.  All  winter  he  would  work  under  Jeff  in  the 
Hilligenlei  harbour  street,  gentle  with  children,  helpful  and 
kind  in  his  ways.  But  when  summer  came  he  was  one  of  the 
thousand  wastrels  wandering,  lazy  and  drunken,  up  and  down 
the  long,  grey,  treeless  Holstein  roads  between  Hamburg  and 
Kolding. 

For  three  days  Scheinhold,  the  journeyman,  went  about  as 
if  in  a  dream,  so  that  Kai  and  Pe  Ontjes  began  to  be  afraid, 
since  the  weather  was  growing  warm,  that  his  curse  was  upon 
him  already.  They  watched  him  as  well  as  they  could.  In  the 


54  HOLYLAND 

interval  they  used  to  run  down  to  the  smithy  to  see  if  he  were 
there.  On  the  third  day  they  found  him  not.  Kai  Jans,  how- 
ever, who  was  especially  troubled  about  him,  heard  a  monot- 
onous murmur  coming  from  the  room  behind  the  bellows 
where  he  lived.  Jeff  came  too,  and  they  opened  the  door 
softly.  There  he  stood,  with  his  back  towards  them,  bending 
like  a  stiff  penknife,  and  saying  to  the  wall,  "  Most  worship- 
ful and  honourable  Mr.  Mayor,  this  youth  whom  you  see  by 
my  side  is  the  grandson  of  an  honest  widow,  Stiena  Dusen- 
schon,  of  high  rank  on  the  mother's  side,  and,  to  judge  from 
a  postcard  which  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  has  unfortunately  destroyed, 
the  son  of  an  educated,  though  unknown,  father.  It  is  there- 
fore little  wonder  that  the  youth  aims  high,  namely,  at  learn- 
ing the  noble  craft  of  writing  and  penmanship  under  your  wor- 
ship. A  person  so  undistinguished  as  myself  is  of  course  quite 
unknown  to  you.  I  am  a  journeyman  under  Jeff  Buhmann, 
in  the  harbour  street,  by  name,  Adalbert  Heinrich  Reinhold 
van  der  Beeke,  called  Scheinhold  by  the  little  street  children, 
who  cannot  manage  R's." 

Jeff  closed  the  door  softly,  and,  sitting  down,  astounded,  on 
the  anvil,  said,  after  a  brief  silence,  "  Among  all  God's  crea- 
tures this  fellow  is  unique.  He's  a  lover  of  children,  a  tippler, 
a  scholar,  and  a  man  with  a  truly  magnificent  name.  What 
is  it?  I  never  knew  he  had  such  a  magnificent  name.  One 
thing  is  certain — Tjark  Dusenschon's  affairs  could  not  be  in 
better  hands.  Daniel  Peters  cannot  resist  such  an  address." 

They  set  off  soon  after  midday  —  the  raffle  was  to  take  place 
afterwards  —  Scheinhold  in  front,  in  Jeff's  black  evening  coat, 
which  reached  past  his  knees,  and  had  to  have  the  sleeves  turned 
up;  behind  him,  to  the  left,  Tjark  Dusenschon,  in  his  beautiful 
new  suit,  with  shining  boots,  black  bowler,  and  blue  tie ;  farther 
behind,  the  street  rabble  in  their  wooden  shoes;  at  some  dis- 
tance, Pe  Ontjes  and  Kai.  From  time  to  time  Tjark  regarded 
them  with  beaming  eyes,  saying,  "  You  must  remain  outside 
the  door." 

The  two  came  straight  into  the  office,  where  they  found 
Daniel  Peters  sitting  at  his  desk.  He  rose,  as  he  did  to  receive 
any  visitor  —  even  a  child  —  so  as  to  give  the  full  impression 
of  his  severely  handsome  presence,  and 'remained  standing,  strok- 
ing his  immense,  silky  moustache,  to  hear  what  journeyman 
Scheinhold  had  to  say  to  him.  His  constant  subject  of  lamen- 


HOLYLAND  55 

tatfon  with  him  was  the  decay,  in  our  times,  of  the  feeling  for 
rank  and  authority.  Here  he  found  what  he  sought,  and  he 
therefore  dismissed  them  with  a  gracious  inclination  of  the 
head. 

The  clatter  of  shoes  in  the  Hilligenlei  market-place  was 
something  unprecedented,  even  though  three  boys  had  theirs  in 
their  hands  while  they  ran  in  their  stockings.  Never  had  a 
more  solemn  meeting  taken  place  in  Jeff's  smithy  than  that 
•which  now  celebrated  the  raffle.  Tjark  had  never  been  so  much 
the  centre  of  his  friend's  attention  as  now,  when,  with  sparkling 
eyes,  he  shuffled  the  lots  in  Jeff's  shaky  old  black  slouch  hat. 
Never  were  such  blank  faces  as  when  Scheinhold  —  Scheinhold, 
the  journeyman,  and  no  one  else  —  won  the  coach.  A  scene 
of  extraordinary  dismay  followed. 

Pe  Ontjes  bit  his  lips  and  stared  gloomily  in  front  of  him. 
Scheinhold  sat,  quite  overcome,  on  the  barrow.  He  did  not 
hear  Tjark  whisper  to  him,  "  I  say,  we  might  raffle  the  coach 
again ;  there  are  a  heap  more  things  I  want." 

Jeff  sat  on  the  anvil,  puffing  hard  at  his  short  pipe,  and  talk- 
ing about  the  tricks  of  fate. 

Suddenly,  up  got  Pe  Ontjes,  without  looking  up.  "  I'm 
going  away,  out  into  the  world.  Adieu  to  you  all.  Never 
in  my  life  will  I  have  anything  more  to  do  with  you."  And 
he  departed,  Tjark  also. 

Kai  wanted  to  go  too,  but,  since  the  smith  and  his  journey- 
man sat  on  with  downcast  looks,  he  stayed,  saying,  in  a  sub- 
dued tone,  "  You  had  better  begin  to  work.  Peter  Thedeus 
is  anxious  for  his  plough  back.  Why  don't  you  set  to?  " 

Jeff  got  up  from  the  anvil,  opened  the  dusty  window  looking 
out  over  towards  the  harbour,  and,  drawing  a  deep  breath,  said, 
"  Extremely  warm  outside.  Make  up  the  fire,  Scheinhold,  and 
we'll  get  the  plough  ready.  Just  look!  there's  Hinnerk  going 
out  to  fish  for  eels.  A  lot  he'll  catch,  stupid  fellow!  " 

Scheinhold,  who  was  still  sitting  on  the  barrow,  raised  his 
head  to  snuff  the  air.  "  Extremely  warm,"  he  said.  "  My 
conscience  is  much  too  tender.  They  will  all  go  and  say  I 
cheated  in  the  raffle."  He  got  up  stiffly,  undid  the  big  door, 
and  looked  down  the  street. 

Kai  looked  anxiously  from  one  to  the  other,  then  went  up 
to  Scheinhold  at  the  door,  and  again  remarked,  in  a  casual 


$6  HOLYLAND 

tone,  "  You  had  better  begin  to  work.  Make  the  fire  now, 
Scheinhold." 

Jeff  had  attempted  to  unscrew  the  plough,  but  a  different 
screwdriver  was  needed,  so  he  came  again  to  the  window. 
"  There's  Charles  Martin  sitting  there,  too,  with  his  net.  He 
isn't  catching  anything  either  —  far  too  stupid.  It's  most 
gloriously  warm ;  there  will  be  thousands  of  eels." 

"  Be  off,  master,  and  catch  eels,"  said  Scheinhold. 

Jeff  turned  round  and  said,  contemptuously,  "  Do  you  think 
I  don't  know  what  time  of  day  it  is?  You  want  to  be  off  to 
your  pub  to  get  drunk!" 

Kai  wanted  to  jump  up  and  fetch  Pe  Ontjes,  but  he  was 
afraid  of  coming  back  too  late,  so  he  remained  standing,  staring 
at  the  journeyman  with  terrified  eyes.  He  had  known  him 
since  he  was  a  child,  and  was  very  fond  of  him. 

"I  go  there?  not  at  all." 

He  sat  still  for  a  time ;  giving  way  again,  he  began  to  whine, 
"If  only  my  conscience  weren't  so  tender;  —  but  I  can't  get 
over  it.  It  shan't  be  said  that  I  am  a  cheat." 

Jeff  turned  away  from  the  window.  "  I  must  just  see  that 
my  net  is  all  right."  With  these  words  he  wrent  out  into  the 
yard. 

"  I  don't  feel  like  work  to-day,"  said  Scheinhold,  in  a  thick 
voice.  "  I  shall  just  go  down  to  the  Sadler's  and  see  if  he  has 
mended  my  braces." 

Kai  seized  him  by  the  arm  and  looked  up  at  him  implor- 
ingly. "  Please,  please,  don't  go." 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about?  I  am  going  to  the  sadler's; 
do  you  understand  that?  Do  you  suppose  a  man  cares  to  work 
for  such  a  lazy  master?  " 

"  Do  you  suppose,"  said  Jeff,  through  the  window,  "  that 
a  man  cares  to  work  when  he  has  such  a  lazy  journeyman  ? 
There  isn't  too  much  water  or  too  little;  it's  exactly  right.  I'm 
off  to  the  harbour." 

"  Ha !  water! "  said  Scheinhold,  shaking  himself.  "  Wa- 
ter, indeed!  "  He  lifted  up  his  hand,  bending  his  fingers  as  if 
he  had  a  little  glass  in  them,  and  smiled  happily. 

Then  Kai  came  quickly  over  to  him  and  looked  anxiously 
into  his  eyes,  saying,  in  a  penetrating  voice,  as  if  he  were 
addressing  a  man  in  his  sleep,  "  Scheinhold  —  I  say,  Scheinhold 
—  have  you  ever  heard  the  story  of  the  blacksmith  of  Bark?  " 


HOLYLAND  57 

"  Don't  know,"  staring  out  into  the  street,  his  eyes  like 
dirty  glass. 

"  He  was  a  blacksmith,  like  you,  and  a  mad  dog  bit  right 
into  his  leg.  The  dog  was  quite  mad  and  the  wound  quite  deep. 
Do  you  know  what  the  smith  did?  He  bolted  the  door  and 
worked  for  three  days  without  stopping,  so  that  the  whole 
smithy  was  full  of  bright  firelight  and  huge  yellow  sparks  flew 
out  at  the  chimney." 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  any  stories  to-day,  kiddie,"  said 
Scheinhold,  pityingly,  getting  up  as  if  he  had  a  thousand 
pounds'  weight  on  each  shoulder,  and  going  out  into  the 
street. 

Kai  looked  round  for  Jeff,  to  see  if  he  could  help  him,  but 
he  was  crossing  the  yard  with  his  net,  smoking  like  a  chimney. 
So  he  ran  down  the  street  after  Scheinhold,  and,  looking  up 
into  his  face,  went  on,  eagerly,  "  On  the  third  day  the  ham- 
mering and  blasting  stopped,  and  the  smith  roared  like  a  wild 
bull." 

"  Kiddie,"  stammered  Scheinhold,  "  I  don't  like  your  stories 
at  all." 

"  At  last  his  dear  brother  took  courage.  He  was  a  carpenter, 
and  as  tall  and  strong  as  he.  He  broke  the  door  open  with 
his  axe.  There  lay  the  hammer  and  pincers  and  files  and  coal 
heaped  up  in  the  corner,  and  the  blacksmith  stood  on  the  hearth- 
stone, foaming  and  tearing  at  great  chains  and  bars,  with  which 
he  had  chained  himself  fast  between  the  hearth  and  the  anvil. 
And  when  his  brother  saw  him  he  said,  '  Good  for  good,  dear 
brother,'  and  struck  him  down  with  his  axe,  so  that  he  might 
not  torture  himself  any  longer." 

Then  Scheinhold  pushed  the  boy  roughly  aside  so  that  he 
staggered  and  fell  heavily  on  to  the  stone.  The  stout  publican 
with  his  beautiful,  snowy  hair,  stood  in  front  of  his  door  and 
laughed.  "That's  right.  Give  it  him!  Come f in!"  And 
Scheinhold  stumbled  across  the  threshold. 

Kai  picked  himself  up  and  went  down  the  street,  breathless 
and  pale  as  a  ghost.  He  wanted  to  go  home,  but  Pe  Ontjes 
appeared  at  the  door  of  his  house  and  said,  "  I've  smashed  the 
shed  door ;  the  coach  has  lost  its  wheels ;  the  leather  is  all  gone 
—  the  man  has  mended  his  slippers  with  it ;  there's  nothing 
left  but  the  wooden  frame  and  the  axles.  Scheinhold's  winning 


58  HOLYLAND 

is  some  trick  of  Tjark's.  They're  a  set  of  rascals,  every  one  of 
them.  I'm  glad  I  shall  be  out  of  it  all  to-morrow." 

He  came  nearer.  When  he  saw  Kai's  face  he  was  so  ter- 
rified that  he  threw  out  his  hands.  "  Boy,  what  is  the  matter 
with  you  ?  " 

Kai  breathed  once,  twice,  quick  and  hard ;  then,  with  a  mis- 
erable cry,  he  fell  down  on  his  knees.  Pe  Ontjes  picked  him 
up  in  his  strong  arms  and  took  him  up  to  his  mother  in  the 
long  house.  There  he  lay,  whimpering  and  almost  uncon- 
scious, on  the  floor.  Pe  Ontjes  related  'what  had  happened, 
and  old  Sarah  looked  in  and  said  how  Scheinhold  had  knocked 
him  down,  and  the  old  publican  had  laughed. 

Then  said  his  mother,  sadly,  "  Then  I  know  what's  the 
matter  with  him.  He  often  used  to  ask  me,  when  he  was  a 
little  boy,  just  gone  to  school,  if  it  was  really  true  that  there 
were  wicked  people  in  the  world.  He  couldn't  understand 
it,  and  I  wasn't  clever  enough  to  explain.  Now  he  has  seen 
a  mass  of  evil,  all  at  once,  one  thing  on  top  of  another,  and 
that's  what  has  made  him  so  queer." 

"  It's  a  pity,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  "  that  he  isn't  going  off  with 
me.  He  must  go  out  into  the  world  and  see  for  himself.  This 
sort  of  thing  won't  do." 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE  annual  fair  at  Hilligenlei  fell  upon  a  beautiful,  sunny, 
September  day.  There  was  a  clattering  of  horses  and  a  rum- 
bling of  carts  on  the  five  roads  that  led  thither,  and  Harbour- 
master Lau  landed  on  the  pier  three  boatloads  of  all  sorts  of 
people  coming  across  the  bay  from  Friestadt.  Pete  Boje  was 
the  first  to  spring  ashore,  his  sister  after  him.  They  were  tall 
children  by  this  time,  both  of  them,  on  the  point  of  being 
confirmed.  Glancing  shyly  at  the  long  house,  they  saw  Kai 
Jans  standing  at  the  door,  and  behind  him  his  dainty  little 
mother,  no  taller  than  he. 

"  Come  in  for  a  minute,"  she  said,  in  her  friendly  way. 
"  Haven't  you  brought  Heinke  and  Hett  with  you?  " 

The  two  children  came  in.  Tall  and  slender,  with  bright, 
fair  hair,  they  seemed  to  fill  the  poor  little  room,  when,  after 
delivering  a  friendly  message  from  their  parents,  they  looked 
about  them  like  a  couple  of  wild  roes. 

"  Our  house  is  small  enough,"  said  Mala,  "  and  the  floor  is 
only  made  of  clay,  but  it  is  at  least  clean.  There  are  the 
newspapers.  I  read  them  on  Sunday.  I  haven't  any  time  in 
the  week.  Go  up  and  put  on  your  better  coat,  Kai.  You  can 
go  with  them  to  market." 

She  looked  again  at  the  tall,  upright  children,  shyly  touch- 
ing the  girl's  shoulders.  "  Look,"  she  said,  pointing  out  the 
round  table  with  the  poor  little  lamp  hanging  over  it,  "  that's 
where  he  sits  every  evening,  always  at  his  books." 

"  He  must  be  very  clever,"  said  Anna. 

"  You've  seen  that,  have  you?  "  Mala's  eyes  did  not  conceal 
her  secret  pride.  "  Mr.  Wieber,  the  teacher,  was  here  about 
a  week  ago,  and  said  what  a  pity  it  was  Kai  couldn't  be  a 
schoolmaster.  It's  impossible;  we  cannot  afford  it.  He  is 
going  to  be  a  compositor.  He's  learning  already  under  Heine 
Wulk  —  goes  there  every  afternoon  —  and  he's  quite  proud  of 
it.  And  Heine  says  he  can  rise  to  anything  in  that  profession. 

59 


60  HOLYLAND 

Just  think ;  he  wrote  a  little  poem  the  other  day.  Heine  printed 
it;  he  thought  it  so  good.  What  are  you  going  to  be,  Pete?  " 

"  After  Easter  I'm  going  to  the  technical  school  at  Itzehoe," 
he  said.  "  I  am  going  into  business." 

"  I  thought  you  were  going  to  teach,"  said  Mala. 

"  Teachers  don't  make  enough,"  he  answered,  gravely.  "  A 
good  business  man  can  make  a  fortune." 

In  came  Kai.  She  rather  fussed  round  him,  asking  whether 
he  had  a  pocket-handkerchief,  smoothing  down  his  sleeves  to 
show  that  his  coat  was  a  good  one,  giving  him  twopence  that 
lay  ready  on  the  window-sill.  They  should  see  he  had  some- 
thing to  spend  at  the  fair.  As  they  went  out  she  motioned  to 
him  with  her  eyes,  saying,  "  Mind  you  hold  yourself  up,  dear," 
and  pointed  to  the  girl,  as  upright  as  a  young  princess. 

When  they  turned  from  the  harbour  street  into  Church 
Street  they  found  themselves  in  the  thick  of  the  confused  crowd 
of  holiday-makers.  Tim  Solte,  the  little  crippled  fiddler,  was 
sitting  on  the  ground  under  the  watchmaker's  window,  fiddling 
away  and  nodding  his  head,  his  cap  on  his  knees  ready  for  cop- 
pers from  the  passers-by.  He  lowered  his  fiddle  as  the  Boje 
children  passed,  saying,  "  Can  you  change  me  a  shilling,  Prince 
Boje?  I've  got  such  a  lot  of  small  change." 

Pete  felt  in  his  purse.  "  Yes,  I  can  do  that."  Then  after 
Tim  had  counted  out  the  amount  in  halfpence,  he  gave  him 
the  shilling  in  exchange. 

When  he  came  to  count  it  up  as  he  went  along  he  found 
there  were  only  ten  pennies. 

"  Is  it  right?"  said  Anna. 

"Yes;  quite  right,"  he  said,  quietly  putting  the  money  in 
his  purse.  On  a  sudden  impulse,  however,  he  turned  on  his 
heel,  seized  hold  of  Tim's  cap,  and  said,  with  sparkling  eyes, 
"  You've  cheated  me,  you  old  rascal.  I'd  make  short  work  of 
you  if  you  weren't  a  cripple." 

Looking  up  at  him  uneasily  the  fiddler  picked  up  his  instru- 
ment as  if  he  had  not  understood. 

On  the  right,  at  the  corner  of  the  market-place,  stood  a  bar- 
rel-organ beside  a  big  canvas  depicting,  in  lurid  colours,  a 
horrible  murder,  the  story  being  chanted  in  some  peculiar  dia- 
lect by  a  harsh-voiced  female. 

Kai  looked  at  it  with  dilated  eyes.  "  She  must  have  seen  it 
herself,"  he  said, 


HOLYLAND  61 

Pete,  more  sceptical,  declared  that  the  whole  thing  was  a 
lie.  "  You  can  see  that  the  axe  doesn't  hit  him ;  the  man's  aim 
is  quite  out." 

Anna  hung  back,  looking  coldly  at  the  woman  who  sang. 

"  Let's  go  to  the  flower  lottery,"  said  Kai.  "  Every  number 
wins.  Look!  so  it  says,  '  Every  number  wins.'  " 

"  You  shall  have  those  flowers,"  he  said,  staking  his  whole 
twopence.  The  wheel  turned,  but  the  pointer  stopped  be- 
tween two  numbers. 

"  Unluckily  it  isn't  a  number,"  said  the  man,  looking  away 
from  the  children.  "  Come,  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Every 
number  wins!  " 

"  That's  enough  of  that,"  said  Kai,  turning  away  with 
scarlet  face. 

"  And  you've  lost  all  your  money,"  said  Anna. 

"  I'll  get  more,"  he  said. 

Then  they  all  went  to  the  puppet  show,  and  stood  looking 
at  it  for  a  long  while.  Every  time  that  Anna  gave  her  short, 
low  laugh,  he  was  happy;  it  was  such  a  delightful  sound.  He 
looked  sideways  at  her  little  white  face  and  asked  her  more 
than  once  whether  she  enjoyed  it. 

"  It's  very  silly,"  she  said,  "  but  I  do  enjoy  it  all  the  same." 

When  he  saw  the  showman's  wife  coming  round  with  the 
plate  he  said,  in  an  important  tone,  that  he  must  go  to  his 
printing  for  an  hour  or  two,  arranging  to  meet  them  two  hours 
later  outside  the  Hamburg  Arms. 

As  he  sat  in  Heine  Wulk's  dirty,  deserted  workshop,  print- 
ing a  few  belated  fair-bills,  a  faint  thunderstorm,  rising  from 
the  south-west,  passed  over  after  a  slight  shower  of  rain,  fol- 
lowed hard  by  a  tremendous  gale.  Peals  of  thunder  resounded 
on  sea  and  land,  and  vivid  flashes  of  lightning  darted  across  the 
sky  with  the  rapidity  of  the  angry  strokes  of  a  whip.  The  air 
was  darkened  far  and  wide  by  swirling  clouds  of  dust  collected 
everywhere  on  the  roads  and  lanes  by  the  long  drought,  and 
now  caught  up  and  mingled  with  sand  from  the  dunes.  The 
storm  swept  over  Hilligenlei  and  the  bay,  and  was  gone  as 
quickly  as  it  came,  though  across  at  the  Friestadt  side  dazzling 
flashes  continued  to  dart  across  the  big,  dark-blue  clouds. 

Released  about  five  o'clock,  Kai  soon  heard  that  the  storm 
had  had  fatal  results  in  and  near  the  town.  A  young  couple 
had  been  struck  down  by  lightning  on  their  way  to  their  first 


62  HOLYLAND 

dance  since  their  wedding.  A  number  of  children  had  been 
buried  by  the  dust  in  the  fields,  and  only  saved  with  great  diffi- 
culty. A  carriage  had  been  crushed  against  the  wall  of  a  house. 
Crossing  the  market-place,  he  caught  sounds  of  an  accident  on 
the  Friestadt  wall.  The  name  was  Schoolmaster  Boje.  The 
Friestadt  farmer,  when  questioned,  could  only  tell  him  that 
nothing  certain  was  known,  and  that  Pete  was  already  on  his 
way  home. 

He  went  at  once  to  look  for  Anna  —  looked  and  asked  for 
her  everywhere  in  vain.  The  neighbours  could  give  him  no 
news  of  her.  No  one  had  seen  her.  He  went  about  asking 
everyone  he  knew  whether  they  had  seen  a  tall,  upright  girl, 
about  fourteen  or  fifteen,  with  a  small,  pale  face  and  loose, 
straight,  fair  hair.  His  cheeks  glowed  with  excitement,  and  he 
almost  imagined  himself  in  charge  of  some  royal  child  which 
had  lost  its  way  in  a  strange  town.  He  had  made  himself  quite 
hot  with  running,  when  he  came  upon  her  at  last  in  the  little 
garden  with  its  few  tables  and  benches  in  the  sun.  She  was 
sitting  on  one  of  these  benches  in  her  long,  blue  dress,  the  little 
straw  hat  well  forward  on  her  forehead,  looking,  with  hot  face 
and  rather  untidy  hair  and  eyes  big  with  astonishment,  at  Tjark 
Dusenschon,  who  stood  in  front  of  her  in  his  tight  trousers 
and  blue  tie,  running  his  hand  indolently  through  the  exquisite 
waves  of  his  fair  hair,  saying,  "  It  would  be  a  very  great  pleas- 
ure to  me  indeed  to  introduce  you  to  our  little  dancing-club, 
and  my  influence  there  is  considerable." 

When  she  saw  Kai  Jans  she  looked  at  him  with  her  calm 
eyes,  saying,  "  Dusenschon  belongs  to  a  dancing-club.  Do  you 
dance?  " 

He  looked  gravely  at  her.  "  Do  you  know,  dear,"  he  said, 
"  Pete  has  heard  a  report  of  your  father's  being  unwell.  He 
has  gone  home  with  a  neighbour." 

Her  delicate  little  face  underwent  a  sudden  change.  Getting 
up,  she  came  over  to  his  side. 

"  There's  no  boat  for  some  time.  Shall  I  take  you  home 
round  the  bay?  " 

She  nodded. 

"  Then  let  us  be  off." 

Tjark  went  with  them  down  Church  Street,  his  tie  blowing 
about;  his  lips  were  tightly  pressed  together,  and  at  every  step 
he  put  down  his  right  knee  with  such  force  that  he  almost 


HOLYLAND  63 

seemed  to  limp  with  the  left.  The  step  and  the  expression  were 
imitated  from  the  mayor's,  adopted  two  years  ago  in  heroic  en- 
durance of  an  attack  of  gout.  When  they  came  down  to  the 
harbour  street  he  politely  took  his  leave,  saying  that  the  mayor 
had  entrusted  to  him  the  maintenance  of  order,  and  he  must 
go  and  inspect  the  stall-holders. 

Kai  Jans  ran  up  to  tell  his  mother  what  had  happened,  and 
then,  as  the  light  began  to  fade,  left  the  town  with  Anna. 
They  came  out  on  the  high  road  leading  up  to  the  higher 
ground,  and  then  took  a  narrow  turning  to  the  right  with  high 
walls  on  either  side,  overhung  with  hazel  and  hawthorn  bushes 
and  oak-trees,  growing  very  close  together.  Darkness  came 
on. 

He  was  proud  of  his  commission,  and  began  to  talk  to  cheer 
her  and  shorten  the  way,  although  he  was  naturally  one  of 
those  silent  people  whose  spirits  are  stirred  by  the  deep  mys- 
teries of  which  one  can  only  speak  to  intimates. 

This  evening  to  this  dear  listener  he  did  speak,  telling  her 
what  he  had  never  told  anyone  —  how  his  father  had  lain  ill 
for  eight  weeks  with  pneumonia,  and  then  been  unable  to  work 
half  the  winter;  how  his  mother  used  to  weep  because  they 
often  had  not  a  penny  in  the  house ;  how  she  had  had  to  go  and 
get  things  on  credit  from  that  dreadful,  stout  publican,  and 
his  father  had  to  go  there  every  Sunday  afternoon,  drink 
brandy,  and  smoke  a  cigar,  both  of  which  he  disliked.  Perhaps 
in  the  autumn  his  old  grandmother  —  his  mother's  stepmother 
—  would  come  to  them.  She  was  old  and  weak,  and  his  father 
didn't  want  her  to  come  on  the  parish.  "  In  the  evenings,  when 
I  come  home  from  the  printer's,  I  am  often  fearfully  tired,  but 
mother's  crying  keeps  me  from  going  to  sleep." 

"  Don't  your  sisters  earn  anything?  " 

"  Father  won't  hear  of  their  paying  for  board  on  any  ac- 
count, for  fear  of  their  being  so  dreadfully  poor  if  they  were  to 
marry." 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  I  know.  We're  poor,  too.  Father  has 
still  his  student  debts  to  pay  —  think  of  that.  However,  that 
doesn't  matter." 

"  She  poor !  "  he  thought.  "  She  knows  nothing  about  it. 
A  teacher,"  he  thought,  "  must  be  rich."  Their  conversation 
next  turned  on  the  confirmation,  and  he  said,  "  Do  you  know 


64  HOLYLAND 

half  the  boys  don't  believe  what  the  clergyman  says?  Does 
Pete  believe  it?-" 

She  shook  her  head,  and  he  could  see  in  the  dim  light  that 
her  brows  were  knitted  in  thought.  "  He  certainly  wouldn't 
be  confirmed  if  the  clergyman  could  only  hear  the  things  he 
says  to  the  boys  and  girls.  He  doesn't  believe  a  word.  The 
other  day  we  were  looking  on  the  stone  bridge  for  earth-worms 
• —  the  long  sort,  you  know  —  for  fishing.  He  looked  up  and 
saw  the  sky  full  of  stars." 

"  It  was  night,  then?  " 

She  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  "Rather!  you  aren't 
so  stupid  as  not  to  know  that  earth-worms  only  come  out  at 
night?  We  had  got  out  of  the  window  to  hunt  for 
them " 

"  In  your  nightgowns?  " 

"  Yes,  in  our  nightgowns.  He  looked  at  the  stars  and  said, 
'  Just  look !  there  are  more  than  fifty  million  stars.  Do  you 
suppose  that  nothing  lives  on  them?  Has  God  had  fifty  million 
sons?  I  don't  believe  what  the  clergyman  says.  I  don't  believe 
it,  and  I  don't  need  it.  I'm  a  good  enough  sort  of  person  with- 
out, and  I  know  what  I  want.'  That's  what  he  said.  Isn't 
it  dreadful?  " 

"You  believe,  though,  don't  you?"  said  Kai. 

"  Yes.  I  believe  it  all  because  the  clergyman  says  so."  She 
was  silent  for  a  time,  looking  straight  in  front  of  her.  "  Do 
you  know  what  often  troubles  me?  God  is  three  in  one.  Well, 
what  frightens  me  is  that  I  am  often  so  tired  at  night  that  I 
don't  get  the  order  right.  I'm  sure  I  pray  least  to  the  Holy 
Ghost,  and  He  must  be  angry  with  me." 

"  The  thing  to  do,"  he  said,  "  is  to  begin  with  God,  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  before  you  say  your  prayer;  then  you 
have  them  all  in  right  order." 

Everything  seemed  clear.  "•  Oh,  yes !  "  said  she.  "  How 
clever  of  you.  Do  you  know,  they  say  you're  a  wonderful  boy 
and  the  cleverest  in  the  school !  " 

His  joy  at  hearing  her  speak  to  him  thus  sent  his  heart  up 
into  his  throat,  and  he  walked  by  her  side  in  silence. 

The  birds,  sitting  in  the  hedges  between  the  heavy  raindrops, 
watched  the  two  as  they  passed  out  of  their  steady,  black  eyes. 
The  moon  shone  from  behind  the  clouds  across  the  calm  sky. 


HOLYLAND  65 

On  tne  horizon  lay  a  bank  of  dark-grey  cloud,  and,  beyond, 
thunder  rumbled  in  the  distance. 

"  We  must  make  haste,"  he  said ;  "  there's  going  to  be 
another  thunderstorm." 

They  came  down  from  the  high  ground  and  passed  through 
a  silent  village,  the  thatched  roofs  like  so  many  dark  patches 
beneath  the  black  shade  of  the  trees.  Only  across  one  garden 
there  was  a  light  to  be  seen,  as  the  door  shut  softly  on  some 
remark  they  could  not  hear  —  evidently  a  neighbour  going 
home  after  an  evening  visit.  Suddenly  the  street  was  lit  up  by 
a  flash  of  lightning.  He  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  a  tall 
man,  his  broad  shoulders  a  trifle  bent.  Immediately  afterwards, 
at  the  cross-roads  in  the  middle  of  the  village,  a  little  pony- 
carriage  came  towards  them,  with  two  children,  a  boy  and 
girl,  sitting  close  together  inside,  and  a  small  mongrel  running 
behind.  They  could  plainly  see  the  children's  eyes  full  of 
silent  inquiry. 

"  What  a  lot  of  people  there  are  on  the  road  to-night,"  said 
Kai  Jans. 

The  flash  and  the  appearance  of  the  carriage  had  so  con- 
fused them  for  the  moment  that  they  took  a  wrong  turning 
at  the  cross-roads,  and  came  out  on  to  the  heath  without  notic- 
ing it,  as  they  talked  of  the  rapidly  rising  storm  now  hanging 
dark  and  heavy  over  the  water. 

It  was  not  until  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour  or  more  that  they 
saw  from  the  rising  of  the  road  that  they  were  out  of  their  way. 
At  first  they  tried  to  get  back  by  cutting  across  the  heath.  A 
mighty  roar  came  from  the  sea,  as  if  a  number  of  heavy  vessels 
were  breaking  their  way  through  the  ice-bound  waters  and 
being  cast  heavily  on  the  beach.  The  roar  of  the  wind  and  the 
slashing  of  the  rain  sounded  like  the  uneasy  movement  of  wet 
sails. 

Without  a  word  they  took  each  other's  hands  and  made  their 
way  back,  full  of  fears,  towards  a  light  they  saw  on  the  road 
just  beyond  the  village.  Crossing  the  tiny  garden  on  tiptoe, 
they  stood  still  by  the  wall,  near  the  light ;  so  that  they  at  least 
had  people  near  them.  As  they  stood  thus  the  window  close 
to  them  was  thrown  open.  A  big,  bearded  man  of  middle  age 
put  out  his  head,  and,  looking  up  to  the  sky,  said,  in  a  nervous 
tone,  "  Look  out  there,  mother :  half  the  sky  has  fallen  in !  " 

A  comfortable  old  voice  replied,  "  That  will  make  an  end  of 


66  HOLYLAND 

the  sparrows,  that's  all.  Look  round  about,  though.  I  thought 
I  heard  footsteps." 

The  man  looked  round.  '  There's  a  child  standing  there, 
and  there's  another,"  he  said. 

They  stood  stock  still  meantime.  Then  the  old  woman 
opened  the  dark,  low  door,  and,  saying  "  Come  in,  children ; 
don't  be  afraid;  come  in,"  led  the  way  into  the  low-roofed 
room.  "  Sit  down,  children,"  she  said ;  then,  turning  to  her 
son,  "  Run  and  see  if  there's  any  coffee  left  in  the  kitchen. 
He's  a  bit  queer  in  his  ways,"  she  went  on,  "  especially  when 
it  thunders.  One  winter  night,  when  he  was  a  soldier,  he  was 
thrown  from  his  horse,  and  nearly  perished  of  cold,  but  he 
wouldn't  harm  a  soul.  Sit  down,  children ;  don't  be  frightened. 
I  tell  him  a  story,  and  then  he  forgets  the  thunder  and  every- 
thing else."  After  asking  where  they  had  come  from  and 
whither  they  were  going,  "  As  soon  as  the  thunder's  over  he'll 
take  you  across  the  heath  by  the  footpath,  and  you'll  be  in 
Friestadt  in  half  an  hour  from  there." 

A  sudden  flash  of  lightning  filled  the  room  with  white  light, 
and  the  thunder  was  like  huge  rocks  crashing  through  the  sky. 
The  heath  seemed  to  shake  under  the  impact  of  the  falling 
stars. 

The  old  woman  saw  to  the  door  and  then  sat  down  again. 
Her  son  came  back  from  the  kitchen  with  a  face  as  white  as 
chalk,  and  fell  on  his  knees  in  front  of  her  as  if  all  the  strength 
had  gone  out  of  him.  "  Mother,  it  fell  on  my  skull ;  it  has 
gone  right  into  my  head." 

'  Then,  my  child,"  she  said,  stroking  his  hair,  grey  in  spite 
of  his  youth,  "  we  must  put  in  a  story  to  fill  it  up  and  make  it 
well  again.  Listen,  children.  Once  upon  a  time,  about  seven 
hundred  years  ago  —  be  still,  my  son,  be  still  —  the  Bishop  of 
Hamburg  passed  one  day  right  past  our  windows  —  do  you 
hear?  —  on  his  way  to  Hilligenlei,  and,  stopping  his  stout  pony 
on  the  high  ground  in  front  of  our  house,  he  looked  down  at 
the  wide  landscape  at  his  feet  with  here  and  there  a  line  of 
grey  sea  visible,  the  low  Hilligenlei  downs,  dotted  with  thatched 
roofs,  the  wall  of  his  new  church  he  was  building  standing  up 
as  high  as  a  mast.  But  the  sight  gave  him  no  joy.  As  a  young 
man  he  had  fought  hard  for  the  faith,  but  now  that  he  was 
growing  old  he  hated  anything  rough  and  incomplete.  When 
he  came  to  the  solid  stone  house  that  the  priests  had  built  be- 


HOLYLAND  67 

side  the  unfinished  church  he  found  the  table  laid.  There  was 
a  pudding  bigger  than  his  head,  and  a  pig's  cheek,  on  which 
they  made  great  inroads.  He  sat  down  and  ate  enormously. 
A  whole  day  in  the  sea  wind  had  given  him  an  appetite.  After 
a  bit  he  let  out  his  leather  belt  and  ate  more,  eating  all  the 
time  while  he  listened  to  the  priests'  complaints  of  the  laziness 
and  obstinacy  of  the  people.  When  he  got  up  next  morning  he 
complained  that  he  had  slept  badly,  disturbed  by  fearful  dreams 
that  seemed  sent  by  evil  spirits  —  visions  of  beings  with  large 
round,  white  faces,  void  of  all  expression.  It  was  with  an 
irritated  spirit  that  he  went  into  the  church.  There,  in  the  un- 
finished buildings,  stood  some  three  or  four  hundred  men  and 
women,  the  yellow  sand  of  the  dune  under  their  feet,  the  open 
sky  over  their  heads,  listening,  with  their  eyes  fixed  devoutly 
on  the  grey  stone  table,  to  the  words  the  holy  man  uttered  in 
his  unfamiliar  speech.  His  homely  goodness  appealed  to 
them,  and  his  face  was  of  the  type  that  the  people  there  have 
always  most  admired,  especially  in  their  priests:  the  almost 
harsh  manhood  that  speaks  of  brave  deeds  and  deep  thoughts. 
Then  the  Bishop  left  the  table  and  came  down  to  question  them 
individually  according  to  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  the  Catechism. 
The  answers  were  hesitating,  and  his  irritation  returned.  As 
he  came  down  the  church  he  saw  standing  to  the  left  by  the 
unfinished  pillars  a  lanky  youth  with  straight,  sleek,  fair  hair, 
and  strongly  marked  features.  Over  his  woollen  shirt  he  car- 
ried a  pocket,  made  out  of  one  piece  of  sealskin.  When  the 
little  priest  who  followed  the  Bishop  perceived  this  man  he  said, 
rapidly,  in  a  low  voice,  '  Hoc  est  asinus  ferocissimus.'  The 
Bishop  turned  round.  '  Hie,  hie,  my  brother,'  he  said,  crossly. 
Then  turning  to  the  man  he  said,  in  dialect,  '  What  is  the  name 
of  our  Lord's  mother,  my  son?  '  .  '  Mary  is  her  name,'  he  an- 
swered, cheerfully.  The  Bishop's  irritation  grew.  '  And  his 
father,  my  son  ?  ' 

"  The  young  man  saw  the  trap,  and  was  on  his  guard.  '  Is 
that  Joseph?  '  he  said,  reflecting,  '  or  our  Lord  himself?  ' 

'  The  Bishop  got  angry.  '  Our  Lord,  of  course,'  he  said. 
'  And  she  was  all  his  life  ?  ' 

"  '  His  wife.' 

"  '  Fool,'  said  the  Bishop,  his  wrath  blazing  forth;  'she  re- 
mained a  virgin.' 


68  HOLYLAND 

"  Thereupon  the  young  man  struck  his  hand  on  his  fore- 
head in  genuine  bewilderment.  '  Not  really!  '  he  said. 

"  The  Bishop,  no  longer  able  to  contain  himself,  raised  his 
hand  and  gave  him  a  heavy  box  on  the  ear.  The  man  drew 
himself  up.  As  pale  as  death,  he  stared  straight  in  front  of  him, 
and,  without  moving  his  eyes,  broke  off  a  piece  from  the  pillar 
—  you  can  see  the  place  still  —  let  it  fall  into  the  sand,  and, 
dropping  his  hand  again,  turned  round  and  left  the  church. 
For  three  hours  he  walked  westwards,  till  he  came  to  the  green 
hillock  by  the  ever-roaring  sea,  where  his  reed  hut  stood.  He 
spoke  no  word  to  his  wife;  he  did  not  play  with  his  little  boy. 
When  evening  came  and  the  light  faded,  taking  his  axe  from 
the  hearth,  he  went  back  the  way  he  had  come  in  the  morning, 
running,  without  stopping  to  rest,  over  the  wide,  white  sand, 
over  the  wide  green  plain,  through  the  deep  water-courses,  till, 
about  midnight,  he  reached  the  Hilligenlei  down  and  the 
priest's  house.  All  the  time  his  resolution  never  wavered.  He 
was  going  to  kill  the  holy  man.  The  back  door  was  not  bolted. 
He  went  along  the  passage  till  he  came  to  another  door  through 
which  he  could  hear  the  voice  of  the  holy  man  speaking  to  him- 
self. Craning  his  neck,  he  peered  through  the  chink  of  the 
door  into  the  room.  There  he  was,  kneeling  in  the  moonlight, 
praying  in  some  strange  tongue,  and  every  sentence  he  paused  to 
think.  Suddenly,  after  the  fifth,  he  began  to  think  aloud.  He 
struck  the  table,  and  said,  in  a  loud,  angry  voice,  '  That  I  was 
so  mad  as  to  box  his  great  ear!  It  was  yesterday's  pudding  and 
pork  that  did  it,  and  that  confounded  busybody  who  stood  be- 
hind me.  Dear  Lord  and  Blessed  Saviour  and  Mary  Mother, 
forgive  me  my  sins  and  soften  his  hard  heart.' 

"  The  man  with  the  axe  turned  round,  stole  out  of  the 
house  on  tiptoe,  and  ran  home,  without  stopping,  over  sand  and 
grass  and  water,  his  lips  pressed  tight  together  and  his  eyes 
sparkling.  At  the  door  she  was  waiting  for  him.  She  took 
the  axe  and  ran  her  finger  along  the  edge,  looking  at  him  with 
uneasy  gaze.  But  he  spread  out  his  arms,  drew  a  deep  breath, 
and  laughed  out  uproariously.  '  He  is  not  a  holy  man  at  all ; 
he  has  a  stomach-ache.' 

"  Now,  although  the  people  all  called  themselves  Christians, 
they  were  surprised  and  angry  that  he  did  not  kill  the  Bishop. 
Even  one  of  the  priests,  who  was  a  native  of  these  parts, 
grieved  when  he  thought  that  the  holy  man  might  thus  have 


HOLYLAND  69 

attained  a  martyr's  crown  thereby,  although  the  thought  made 
his  hair  stand  on  end.  They  despised  him,  one  and  all,  until 
the  Frisian  invasion  gave  him  an  opportunity  of  showing  mag- 
nificent courage;  and  from  that  time  they  learnt  how  to  praise 
the  mild  justice  he  had  shown  before." 

The  old  woman  removed  her  hands  from  her  son's  head, 
and  he  stood  up,  lost  in  dreaming  thoughts,  at  the  side  of  the 
stove.  Anna  Boje  had  gone  to  sleep  during  the  story,  her  head 
on  her  arms,  and  her  pretty,  fair  hair  spread  out  all  over  the 
table.  Kai,  with  his  elbows  on  the  table,  was  still  gazing  at 
the  old  woman  out  of  his  dark-gray  eyes. 

"  Do  you  see  ?  "   she  said  to  her  son. 

His  thoughts  were  like  children  playing  in  the  dark. 
"What  does  it  mean?"  he  said,  uttering  his  thoughts.  "Are 
there  no  saints  now?  no  holy  men?" 

"  No,"  said  the  old  woman,  shaking  her  head,  "  not  a 
single  one.  It's  all  mixed  up  in  men  now  —  holy  and  unholy 
together.  There  are  none  all  holiness.  Look  out,  Hans,  and 
see  if  the  sky  is  clear  again." 

He  went  to  the  window  and  said,  in  genuine  astonishment, 
'  The  stars  are  all  there  again." 

"  Yes ;  I  thought  so,"  she  said.  "  Now  take  the  children 
to  the  road.  Wake  up,  girlie;  you're  off  again  now." 

He  led  them  across  the  heath,  and  at  its  edge,  without  a 
word,  he  left  them.  Silently,  they  clambered  down  the  defile 
into  the  flat  ground,  and  were  soon  once  more  on  the  narrow 
footpath  that  led  to  Friestadt,  the  straight  line  of  the  dyke 
appearing  on  their  right. 

When  they  were  close  to  the  village,  by  the  mill,  Anna 
looked  up,  frightened,  and  still  half-asleep.  "  All  the  houses 
are  lit  up  —  ours,  too.  Why  is  it?  There's  a  light  in  the 
schoolroom,  too !  "  She  burst  into  tears,  and  began  to  run. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "   asked  Kai  of  a  man  on  the  road. 

"  The  schoolmaster  tried  to  stop  a  heavy  cart  that  was 
coming  along  the  sea  wall  during  the  storm.  A  child  had 
got  under  the  wheels,  and  the  driver  was  drunk.  The  weight 
was  too  much  for  him,  and  he  fell  right  into  the  sea.  They 
have  just  brought  him  home." 

Anna  burst  through  the  crowd  of  mud-bespattered  men  in 
the  hall  and  schoolroom,  to  her  mother,  who  stood  by  the 
desk,  quite  overcome.  Pete,  also  covered  from  head  to  foot 


70  HOLYLAND 

with  wet,  gray  mud,  stood  beside  the  dead  body  of  his  father. 
Hella  Boje  gave  a  loud  cry  of  joy  when  she  saw  her  child. 
"  You  are  safe,"  she  cried,  "  darling  child,  you  are  safe."  She 
caught  the  big  girl  on  to  her  knees  and  covered  her  face  with 
kisses.  "  At  least  I  have  all  my  children.  Where  are  Hett 
and  Heinke?" 

"  In  the  bedroom,"  said  Pete,  in  a  steady,  restrained  voice. 

Hans  Martin,  the  parish  overseer,  said,  in  his  harsh  voice, 
"  His  death  comes  too  early  for  his  family.  He  had  paid  off 
a  good  seventy-five  pounds  of  his  college  debts,  but  fifty  pounds 
is  still  due  —  I  stood  his  surety  as  a  neighbour." 

Hella  Boje  looked  up  questioningly.  She  had  only  half 
heard.  But  Pete  got  in  front  of  the  overseer,  and,  striking 
himself  on  the  breast,  cried  out,  "I  —  I  will  set  it  right.  I 
will." 

"  All  right,  little  neighbour,"  said  Martin.  "  That  is  not 
how  I  meant  it." 

"  You  did  mean  that,"  cried  Pete,  striking  himself  again. 
"  I  will  —  I  will  set  everything  to  rights."  Then  turning  to 
his  mother,  "  Never  mind,  mother;  you've  got  me.  Everything 
will  be  all  right." 

Hella  laid  her  arm  round  him  and  said  once  more,  "  Where 
are  Heinke  and  Hett?  " 

"In  the  bedroom.  Yes;  let  us  go  there.  We  cannot  do 
anything  for  father  now." 

Kai  Jans  had  remained  standing  at  the  door,  his  head  erect, 
horror  in  his  eyes.  In  the  light  cast  by  the  lanterns  which  the 
men  now  lifted  as  they  made  room,  he  saw  the  dead  man  lying 
in  the  midst  of  the  disordered  schoolroom,  the  beautiful  head, 
still  young,  bent  helplessly  back;  the  fair  mother,  with  her  face 
contracted  by  pain,  and  her  garments  in  disorder;  Pete  and 
Anna,  quite  changed  from  their  ordinary  peaceful  expression. 
As  he  saw  all  this  he  turned  round  as  if  seized  upon  by  some 
force  outside  himself  and  ran,  ran  home,  stopping  breathless 
for  a  moment,  only  to  start  off  and  run  once  more,  weeping 
in  a  maze  of  confused  anguish  as  the  wretched  picture  burnt 
itself  into  his  soul  and  his  mind  wrestled  helplessly  with  his 
disordered  thoughts. 

It  was  morning  when  he  reached  home.  Hot  and  perspir- 
ing, he  gave  his  mother  a  broken  and  stammering  account  of 
what  had  happened.  She  went  into  the  kitchen  and  sat  down 


HOLYLAND  71 

in  front  of  the  fire.     He  stood  before  her.     "  It  is  appalling," 
he  said,  "  appalling." 

. "  Yes,"  she  said,  "  yes ;  it  is  appalling.  What  will  become 
of  her  and  the  children?  The  pension  is  tiny,  and  they  have 
debts.  Pete  will  have  to  give  up  school." 

"  That's  not  the  worst,"  he  said.  "  Pete  will  manage  that; 
it's  the  other." 

"  What  ?  "  said  his  mother. 

"  Mother,"  said  he.  "  Only  think.  If  the  driver  had  not 
been  drunk!  He  was  saved,  and  Mr.  Boje  and  the  child 
drowned.  Think  of  the  struggle  the  Bojes  will  have  all  their 
lives  now,  just  because  of  that  man's  being  drunk!  It's  all 
wrong." 

She  looked  at  him.  His  eyes  blazed  in  his  pale  face.  "  That's 
how  the  world  is,"  said  she. 

"  Yes.  But  I  tell  you  it  shall  not  be  so.  The  woman  at 
Heesedorf  may  say,  '  There  are  no  holy  men,'  but  there  shall 
be  some.  All  men  shall  be  holy." 

"Get  to  work,  my  boy,"  said  she,  coldly;  "that  will  put 
an  end  to  your  brooding." 

"Oh!  mother,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  anxiously,  "yes; 
but  if  that  must  be  so  for  me,  I  couldn't  stop  thinking  of  it. 
I  think  till  my  head  will  one  day  break  with  thinking." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WHEN  Kai  Jans  came  in,  Heine  Wulk  was  sitting  in  the 
musty  old  office,  grey  with  accumulated  dust,  in  front  of  the 
long,  dirty  table  littered  with  cuttings,  scissors,  writing  mate- 
rials of  every  sort,  and  heaps  of  newspapers,  his  pasty  face 
buried  in  his  Berlin  correspondence.  The  boy,  who  had  shot 
up  into  a  tall,  pale-faced  youth,  went  straight  to  his  accus- 
tomed place,  and  began  to  set  up  the  advertisements  which 
had  come  in.  He  had  come  from  six  hours  at  school,  but  in 
a  week  he  would  leave  school  and  devote  his  whole  time  to  the 
firm. 

"  I  say,"  said  Heine,  smoothing  down  his  long,  sleek  hair 
to  the  collar  of  his  coat.  "  A  magnificent  leader  from  the 
Berlin  man  again,  on  the  coming  of  spring;  but  in  one  place 
he  talks  of  dragon-flies  playing  round  the  water-lilies.  What 
does  he  mean?  I've  never  heard  of  dragon-flies!  " 

'  They're  what  we  call  devil's  darning-needles,"  said   Kai. 

"  So,  ho !  that's  what  it  is ;  but  we  can't  talk  about  devil's 
darning-needles  in  a  leader.  Dragon-flies  it  must  be;  it's  a 
fine  word,  anyhow.  You  must  alter  a  word  here  and  there, 
Kai  —  for  example,  when  he  talks  of  lasses  and  lads  you  had 
better  say  girls  and  boys,  d'you  see?  But  don't  spoil  the  swing 
of  the  thing;  that's  the  great  point,  after  all  —  swing  and  go. 
You're  getting  on  finely,  but  there's  still  room  for  improve- 
ment, as  I'm  always  saying.  Look  at  the  mayor.  There's 
style  for  you.  And  further  down,  where  the  Berlin  man  — 
it's  very  fine  on  the  whole,  of  course  —  but  where  he  talks  of 
the  '  sun's  shy  beams '  you  can  add  that  the  hens  are  beginning 
to  lay  again.  He's  stupidly  left  that  out." 

Kai  looked  at  the  passage.  "  It  does  not  go  very  well 
there,"  he  said,  meditatively. 

"  In  it  must  go,  for  all  that,"  said  Heine  Wulk.  "  Don't 
you  see,  if  a  farmer  sees  that,  ten  to  one  he'll  try  an  adver- 
tisement and  pay  with  eggs.  I've  often  done  quite  a  good 

72 


HOLYLAND  73 

thing  in  that  way  at  this  time  of  year.  Well,  tell  me  any 
news  in  the  town.  Have  you  heard  any?" 

"  Skipper  Tarns  has  bought  a  smack  in  Finkenwarder. 
That's  the  fifth  in  Hilligenlei,  and  Harbourmaster  Lau  says 
a  fine  smack  too." 

"What  of  that?"  said  Wulk.  "Anyone  can  buy  a 
smack!" 

"  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  has  got  distinction  in  his  pilot's  examina- 
tion in  Altona." 

"  I  don't  like  Lau.  What's  that  to  do  with  Hilligenlei, 
either?" 

"  The  drain  in  Church  Street  has  been  choked  up  since 
yesterday  evening.  The  bad  water  has  run  out  into  the 
streets,  and  has  no  outlet." 

Heine  shook  his  head  vigorously.  "  What's  the  good  of  our 
putting  that  in?  It  would  annoy  the  mayor  and  set  the 
policemen  against  me.  No.  We'll  have  nothing  to  do  with 
that.  Anything  else?  " 

"  Dickson,  the  merchant,  has  found  the  betrothal  ring  that 
he  lost  in  his  garden  twenty  years  ago." 

"  Now  that  is  really  interesting.  That  will  go  in  nicely. 
These  little  traits  of  human  life  are  what  we  want,  don't  you 
know." 

"  Birnbaum,  the  publican,  has  put  out  a  bottle  full  of  peas 
and  offered  a  dozen  of  beer  for  the  best  guess  at  the  number." 

"  That  will  do  nicely.  There  is  what  you  call  humour  in 
that.  You  can  make  a  clever  thing  of  that  by  working  it  up 
a  bit  —  plenty  of  go,  of  course  —  showing  how  ingeniously 
contrived  the  idea  is  on  Birnbaum's  part,  and  how,  by  pro- 
moting friendly  intercourse  in  this  way,  he  is  contributing  to 
the  healthy  activities  of  the  town,  and  with  a  verse  or  two,  if 
you  are  in  the  mood  —  some  sort  of  poetical  motto.  So  get 
to  work.  You  ought  to  be  pleased,  my  boy,  to  be  at  the  centre 
of  things  at  your  age!  Well,  be  diligent.  I  will  run  down 
to  the  town  and  see  if  there  is  any  more  news." 

Heine  Wulk  drew  on  his  old  overcoat,  and,  plunging  both 
hands  in  its  huge,  gaping  pockets,  made  hi§  way  first  to  Birn- 
baum's, where  he  drank  a  glass  of  grog  and  had  his  estimate  of 
the  number  of  the  peas  noted  down,  then  on  to  the  other  public 
houses.  After  exchanging  a  few  words  with  the  citizens 
lounging  and  grumbling  there,  he  returned  to  his  office. 


74  HOLYLAND 

Kai  Jans  had  in  the  meantime  set  up  the  two  articles  and 
read  part  of  a  novel  sent  in  in  yellow  backed  numbers  by  a 
Berlin  firm,  in  order  to  decide  whether  it  was  worth  repro- 
ducing. He  was  now  occupied  in  setting  up  the  programme  of 
a  variety  entertainment.  Heine,  squinted  towards  the  galley 
where  he  ought  to  have  been  working,  but,  too  lazy  even  to 
take  off  his  overcoat,  sank  down  into  his  comfortable  chair 
by  the  table  and  picked  up  the  Hamburg  paper. 

In  came  the  Bojes'  neighbour,  Anna  Wiesche  Martin  from 
Friestadt,  filling  the  office  with  her  portly  person.  Putting 
down  her  basket  on  the  long  table,  she  said,  "  We've  got  a 
cow  for  sale,  Heine.  Will  you  put  in  a  short  advertisement  ?  " 
Then,  taking  a  small  packet  of  butter  out  of  the  basket,  "  I've 
brought  a  pound  of  butter  for  you ;  we're  rather  short  of  cash." 

"  It's  a  great  nuisance,"  said  Heine,  "  that  no  one  pays  in 
cash.  I  don't  mind  taking  the  butter,  and  I  shouldn't  have 
anything  to  say  against  half  a  sack  of  potatoes.  Last  autumn, 
when  pigs  were  so  cheap  that  Hans  Hansen  let  five  run  about 
the  market-place,  Jacob  Sothmann  thought  he  would  do  me 
by  giving  me  a  pig  for  the  notice  of  his  wife's  death.  How- 
ever, the  price  rose,  and  I  was  all  right.  But  just  look  here 
in  this  corner."  He  pulled  back  a  goatskin.  "  Have  you  any 
use  for  that?  Come  here,  Kai,  my  boy,  and  look  in  here.  If 
you  ever  get  on  to  a  big  paper,  think  of  what  you  may  collect! 
One  must  have  an  all-round  education!  Look  here!  children's 
clothes."  He  felt  in  a  big,  soft  heap.  "  The  merchants  are 
the  worst  of  all." 

"  All  rubbish,"  said  Anna,  shaking  her  head.  "  I  must  go 
on  —  oh,  yes !  "  she  stopped.  "  I  wanted  to  tell  you  School- 
master Boje's  wife  is  coming  across  by  the  afternoon  boat.  She 
is  going  to  move  into  Hilligenlei,  and  wants  a  little  house  — 
three  rooms  —  so  that  she  can  take  in  a  schoolboy  as  a  boarder 
—  a  low  rent." 

Heine,  lost  in  his  reflections  on  barter,  shook  his  head. 
Anna  departed. 

She  had  only  just  gone  when  Kassen  Wedderkop  came  in, 
big  and  heavy.  A  Hilligenleiman  by  birth,  he  had  travelled 
all  over  the  world  and  spent  years  in  Eastern  Asia  in  the 
employ  of  an  old-established  Hamburg  firm.  When  he  was 
forty  he  received  an  injury  to  his  spine  which  made  him  an 
invalid  and  obliged  him  to  give  up  his  profession.  Returning 


HOLYLAND  75 

with  a  modest  competency  to  his  native  town,  he  had  begun, 
tentatively  at  first,  to  write  articles  on. commerce  and  commer- 
cial policy.  He  soon  realized  that  his  gifts  fitted  him  better 
for  the  theory  than  the  practice  of  commerce,  and  now,  ten 
years  after  his  return,  he  was  a  writer  of  repute  on  important 
English  and  German  papers.  He  had  no  friends  in  Hilligenlei; 
people  did  not  know  him.  Grave  and  taciturn  in  manner, 
he  went  about  lost  in  thought.  His  voice,  when  he  did  speak, 
was  a  loud  bass. 

Now,  supporting  his  short,  thick-set  figure  heavily  on  a 
crutch,  he  asked,  in  his  usual  dry  and  entirely  practical  manner, 
for  a  particular  back  year  of  the  newspaper  in  which,  as  he 
had  recently  learnt,  his  father  had  given  an  account  of  his  hon- 
ourable career. 

Heine,  who  could  not  bear  him,  gave  him  the  paper,  and 
Wedderkop  went  to  the  window  where  Kai  stood  at  his  work. 
He  looked  attentively  at  the  tall,  pale  youth,  whom  he  had 
met  from  time  to  time  in  the  street ;  then,  sitting  down  heavily, 
he  began  to  read,  groaning  from  time  to  time,  a  habit  which  he 
had. 

All  sorts  of  people  came  in.  A  woman  whose  ill-fed,  untidy 
children  played  in  the  streets,  ordered  confirmation  cards.  The 
sexton  brought  the  church  notices.  Then  came  the  mayor. 

"  Oh !  his  worship !  "  said  Heine,  bowing  low. 

Daniel  Peters  gave  Wedderkop  a  distant  nod.  Pulling  up 
his  light  trousers,  he  took  his  seat  with  dignity.  "  I  had  not 
much  time  for  the  article,"  he  said.  "  The  care  of  the  town 
leaves  one  no  rest,  day  or  night." 

"  It  is  fearful,"  said  Heine,  smoothing  down  his  hair,  "  to 
think  what  your  worship  might  have  been  could  you  have  put 
the  pound  that  God  has  given  you  out  at  interest." 

"  Yes,"  said  Daniel  Peters,  stroking  his  long,  silky  mous- 
tache. "  One  is  used  to  the  full  as  an  official.  Life  goes  by. 
But  enough  of  that.  I  will  read  you  what  I  have  written." 

"  Put  down  your  work,  Kai  —  listen  with  all  your  ears." 

Daniel  Peters  laid  his  hand  on  his  knee  and  read,  with 
raised  shoulders  and  contracted  throat  —  all  Hilligenlei  folk 
raise  their  shoulders  and  contract  their  throats  when  they  want 
to  say  something  important  —  "Title,  '  The  Future  of  the 
Town  of  Hilligenlei.' 

"  Our  sea,  the  murderous  North  Sea,  is  wonderful  —  mur- 


76  HOLYLAND 

derous  in  its  wrecks,  North  in  contradistinction  to  the  English 
name  of  German  Ocean  —  most  wonderful  of  all  when  it  is 
not  there  at  all,  when  it  presents  us  puny  mortals  with  its  vast 
expanse  of  sand,  and  invites  us  all,  citizens  of  Hilligenlei,  from 
magistrate  to  labourer,  to  go  forth  to  the  Danish  sandbank. 
And  why  thither?  Is  the  question  just?  No,  no;  and  yet 
again  no.  There,  in  the  Danish  sandbank,  over  which  the  sea 
comes  gliding  up,  lies  the  hope  of  the  good  old  town  of  Hilli- 
genlei, so  often  sorely  tried.  Our  readers  know  what  we 
mean.  Every  man  who  is  a  true  citizen  —  and,  thank 
Heaven!  there  are  still  many  such  —  knows  that.  It  was  in 
the  year  of  our  Lord  1813.  In  that  year  His  Gracious  Maj- 
esty, now,  alas!  long  since  gathered  to  his  fathers,  had  des- 
patched to  Gliickstadt  a  ship  laden  with  three  hundred  thou- 
sand florins  for  the  use  of  His  Majesty's  army.  Was  it  by  the 
effect  of  merely  natural  causes?  No!  As  Christians,  faithful 
adherents  to  our  early  faith,  we  say  it  was  by  the  will  of  a 
wise  and  gracious  God  that  the  ship,  driven  by  a  mighty  storm 
into  our  bay,  sank  with  all  on  board,  and  was  swallowed  up 
at  once  in  the  sandy  depths  below.  And  the  will  of  God  was 
shown  in  this  also,  that  He  directed  the  heart  of  His  Gracious 
Majesty  to  grant  that  if  ever  the  ship  should  be  recovered,  its 
cargo  should  belong  to  the  town  of  Hilligenlei.  Behold !  God 
uses  the  forces  of  Nature  for  the  service  of  His  creatures. 
Having  determined  to  help  this  town,  He  has  brought  it  about 
that  in  the  last  ten  years,  since  the  present  mayor,  Daniel 
Peters,  has  directed  the  affairs  of  our  community,  the  sandbank 
has  been  gradually  dissolving.  As  the  poet  says,  '  Fate  has  yet 
some  golden  day  in  store.'  The  ship  will  come  to  light,  and 
Hilligenlei  be  a  Holyland,  as  its  name  foretells.  Now,  well 
administered,  true  to  the  faith  of  his  fathers,  it  will  then  be 
also  freed  from  the  burden  of  debt.  And  yet,  although  God's 
goodness  has  been  thus  vouchsafed  to  us,  some  people  are  not 
satisfied.  From  one  year's  end  to  the  other  they  are  for  ever 
agitating  to  have  the  harbour  stream  cut  straight  for  the  sake, 
forsooth!  of  some  fifteen  wrecked  crabfishermen,  plying  their 
trade  in  miserable  crafts,  or  the  twenty  smacks  that  come  into 
port.  Supposing  that  their  numbers  did  increase  in  conse- 
quence of  the  widening  of  the  harbour!  Do  we  want  that? 
Do  we  want  more  intercourse?  more  life?  more  population? 
Do  we  want  a  second  newspaper,  for  example,  to  carp  and 


HOLYLAND  77 

criticize  in  present-day  fashion?  What  should  we  gain?  We 
live  peacefully  here.  We  want  none  of  the  subverters  of  State 
and  Church.  Alas  that,  as  it  is,  we  are  not  wholly  without 
them.  As  it  is  they  lurk  among  us,  polluting  our  Holyland. 
We  know  their  names  and  their  comings  and  goings." 

Daniel  Peters  drew  a  deep  breath  and  stroked  his  long,  silky 
moustache.  Heine,  deeply  impressed,  said,  in  a  low  tone  of 
great  solemnity,  "There,  Kai;  there's  style  for  you.  I  hope 
you  took  it  all  in.  There's  a  model  for  you  —  an  ideal.  Put 
the  article  in  type  straight  away.  I  will  come  with  you,  your 
worship." 

They  went  out  together  without  taking  any  notice  of  Wed- 
derkop.  Kai  returned  to  his  work. 

After  a  time  Wedderkop  looked  up  again  from  his  news- 
paper. It  seemed  to  him  that  there  lay  behind  those  deep-set, 
serious  eyes  a  wondering  spirit,  strangely  mature  in  such  a  boy, 
that  looked  out  with  the  timid  eagerness  with  which  the  heart 
of  a  high-born  maiden  turns  to  her  lover,  trembling  lest  he 
should  not  prove  worthy.  His  mouth  was  firmly  cut  and  his 
chin  broad.  "  What  a  strong,  beautiful  face,"  he  thought. 

"  That's  a  good  piece  of  work  of  the  mayor's,"  he  said  in 
his  loud  voice. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Kai,  rather  startled ;  "  he  writes  well." 

"  His  ideas  are  clever,"  thundered  Wedderkop. 

"  He  is  a  very  clever  man,"  said  Kai,  intelligently.  "  He 
could  be  in  the  Government  if  he  liked,  I  expect,  if  he  did  not 
sacrifice  himself  for  the  sake  of  Hilligenlei." 

Wedderkop  opened  his  eyes  still  wider.  "  You  learn  a  lot 
here,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Rather,"  said  Kai,  emphatically.  "  Mr.  Wulk  is  so  good 
in  letting  me  do  a  lot  of  work  for  myself." 

"For  example?" 

The  proud  red  in  his  pale  cheeks  contradicting  his  modest 
manner,  Kai  gave  an  account  of  his  share  in  the  leading  arti- 
cles. "  Quite  recently,  the  first  article  I  have  written  all  by 
myself  was  published  —  the  story  of  the  bishop  and  the  coun- 
tryman. Perhaps  you  read  it." 

"  It  was  you,  then,"  said  Wedderkop,  "  who  sheltered  at 
the  old  woman's  in  Heesedorf  on  the  night  of  the  storm.  I 
have  heard  the  old  lady  tell  the  story  myself." 

"  She  tells  it  quite  plainly.    I  have  improved  it." 


78  HOLYLAND 

Kassen  Wedderkop  looked  at  him  attentively  and  nodded. 
The  young  artist  had  made  the  countryman  a  spiritless  fellow 
and  the  bishop  a  perfect  madman,  and  added  all  sorts  of  mean- 
ingless detail.  "Yes;  you  improved  it!  Where  are  you  in 
school?" 

"  I  have  been  in  the  top  form  for  the  last  two  years." 

Kassen  Wedderkop  got  up,  groaning,  and  began  to  move 
away.  "  If  you  care  to,"  said  he,  "  to-morrow  morning,  being 
Sunday,  you  might  come  and  see  me  about  ten  o'clock.  Bring 
the  newspapers  for  the  last  quarter  with  you,  do  you  hear? 
Yes;  bring  them  with  you." 

Nearer  acquaintance  with  this  man,  whom  Heine  Wulk  and 
the  mayor  dismissed  with  such  contempt,  filled  Kai  with  consid- 
erable respect.  He  looked  up  at  his  bulky  figure  with  a  certain 
timidity  and  promised  to  come. 

Next  morning  Kai  found  Kassen  Wedderkop  at  home  in  his 
house  outside  the  town,  busy  making  notes  on  a  block  that 
rested  on  the  arm  of  his  chair  from  the  portentous  foreign  news- 
papers and  reviews  that  he  was  reading.  He  groaned  heavily 
from  time  to  time,  rather  from  the  dull  sensation  of  oppression 
in  his  back  than  in  actual  pain. 

"  Sit  down,  my  boy,"  he  said,  "  and  don't  be  frightened  if 
I  speak  rather  loud.  I  got  into  the  habit  in  Korea,  where  I 
was  for  a  long  time  and  everyone  is  hard  of  hearing.  It's  a 
great,  open  country.  That's  right.  I  see  you've  brought  the 
papers." 

He  took  up  the  first  and,  without  any  further  remark,  began 
to  read  aloud  in  his  tremendous,  droning  voice,  making  short 
remarks  from  time  to  time.  Kai  sat  on  the  edge  of  a  chair, 
cap  in  hand,  looking  straight  in  front  of  him,  growing  first  red 
and  then  paler  and  paler. 

"  Just  look  at  this  sentence  —  there.  You  see  how  utterly 
absurd  that  is  ?  And  here,  further  on  —  here  are  three  sen- 
tences of  which  two  are  quite  superfluous  and  the  third  is 
drivelling.  And  here  —  just  listen  to  this —  Look  at  that 
stuff  with  those  quiet,  intelligent  eyes  of  yours  and  tell  me 
what  you  think  of  it?  Yes,  I  should  rather  think  so.  Here's 
some  more.  That's  true  enough,  but  only  half  a  truth  —  the 
rest  of  it  is  lunacy,  stark  lunacy,  and  the  conclusion  is  fatuous. 


HOLYLAND  79 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  truth  is —  You  know  that  well 
enough  yourself." 

He  went  through  two  or  three  entire  newspapers,  sentence 
by  sentence,  in  this  way.  When  he  came  to  any  article  by 
Heine  Wulk  or  the  mayor,  "  Nonsense,"  he  said ;  "  wretched 
rubbish!  It's  all  a  mass  of  nonsensical  lies.  The  amount  of 
harm  these  people  do  with  their  newspapers  is  fearful.  People 
drink  in  all  this  gas  —  this  tall  talk  about  nothing,  this  self- 
satisfied  patriotism  —  and  think  it  so  splendid  that  they  go  and 
make  a  faith  out  of  it.  They  think  by  it,  speak  by  it,  write 
by  it,  and  the  result  is  that,  through  the  newspaper,  their  whole 
lives  are  made  a  lie.  Have  you  no  eyes?  Don't  you  see  all 
the  lying,  all  the  pretence,  there  is  in  Hilligenlei?  " 

Kai  sat  motionless  on  the  edge  of  his  chair,  staring  at  his 
cap  without  seeing  it.  He  was  deathly  pale.  All  his  gods  were 
falling  from  their  thrones  and  turning  to  ridiculous  puppets 
before  his  eyes. 

The  story  of  the  bishop  came  next.  Kassen  Wedderkop  took 
it  up  and  pulled  off  all  the  fine  plumage  in  which  Kai  had 
decked  it  out,  feather  by  feather,  showing  him  the  simple 
beauty  of  its  original  form.  Kai's  lips  twitched  and  his  hands 
trembled. 

"It's  all  nonsense,  my  boy  —  your  whole  existence  —  stuff 
and  nonsense.  I  know  you're  right-minded  and  sensible  enough 
at  bottom.  I  thought,  when  I  saw  you  in  that  filthy  office, 
'  That's  a  true  Saxon ;  he  won't  follow  other  people ;  he  will 
think  things  out  for  himself.'  The  inside  is  right  enough,  but, 
Good  Lord!  the  outside!  A  windbag,  that's  what  you  are  — 
a  windbag.  Do  you  understand  ?  You  ought  to  be  thoroughly 
ashamed  of  yourself." 

Kai  leapt  to  his  feet  and  looked  at  the  terrible  man  with 
agonized  eyes.  "  I  know  that  you  are  right,"  he  said.  "  You 
don't  need  to  say  any  more  to  me,"  and  he  darted  out  of  the 
door. 

He  ran  out  into  the  fields,  not  knowing  what  to  do  with 
his  life.  It  was  like  having  been  lifted  up  into  the  air  and  then 
not  knowing  what  field  to  fall  on  to  when  he  could  hold  aloft 
no  longer.  How  often  he  had  boasted  to  his  parents  of  his 
wonderful  doings  at  the  office,  giving  them  to  understand  that 
the  mayor  looked  upon  him  with  favour,  and  he  was  somebody 
already  in  the  town.  When  he  was  mayor,  as  he  well  might 


8o  HOLYLAND 

be  one  day,  he  would  see  that  Hilligenlei  was  really  a  Holy- 
land.  How  they  had  listened,  their  eyes  full  of  quiet  happiness; 
his  father  smiling  a  little  in  his  joking  way  over  his  son's  proj- 
ects, but  pleased  enough;  and  his  mother  —  she  believed  every 
word.  His  face  grew  hot  with  shame.  He  groaned  as  he 
ground  his  teeth  together. 

No,  no !  Hilligenlei  was  no  Holyland.  He  saw  that  plainly 
enough  now.  He  knew  it  well  enough  now.  There  was  noth- 
ing holy  in  it.  It  was  a  Bedlam  —  a  Bedlam  full  of  lies  and 
deceit.  He  had  been  blind.  He  had  not  known  what  holiness 
meant.  He  did  not  know  the  world,  that  was  what  it  was. 
Now  he  must  learn  to  know  it.  A  smith  has  to  understand 
his  hammer.  A  man  must  know  the  world  if  he  is  to  be  any 
good  at  all.  Know  the  world?  To  do  that  he  must  get  away 
from  Hilligenlei  and  go  to  Hamburg.  Hamburg  was  in  the 
world:  Hamburg  was  the  world:  there  he  would  go  into  a 
really  big  printing-office:  the  great  thing  was  that  he  could 
open  his  eyes  there  and  get  to  know  the  world. 

He  got  up  and  went  slowly  towards  the  town  as  if  his  feet 
were  weighed  down  with  lead.  In  the  harbour  street  he  saw 
Anna  and  Pete  Boje  coming  up  from  the  pier  and  wanted  to 
get  out  of  the  way,  but  their  keen  eyes  had  perceived  him, 
and  they  called  to  him  with  their  clear  voices.  They  told  him 
that  they  were  on  their  way  to  the  park:  their  mother  had 
taken  a  house  in  Chestnut  Row  and  they  were  going  to  look 
at  it.  They  went  up  together,  counting  the  pleasant-looking, 
red-gabled  houses  built  in  a  straight  row  under  the  chestnuts 
by  the  moat  till  they  came  to  an  empty  one  without  any  cur- 
tains: that  was  the  one.  It  was  a  slip  of  a  house,  one  story 
high,  the  smallest  in  the  row;  downstairs  the  door  and  a  win- 
dow on  either  side,  one  window  in  the  gable.  They  went  in, 
along  the  narrow  passage  that  led  out  into  the  garden :  looking 
into  the  rooms,  and  out  of  the  kitchen  window.  It  was  a  very 
small  garden,  but  it  had  an  apple-tree  and  a  strip  of  grass  for 
drying  at  the  end,  and  a  little  gate  opening  on  to  the  pleasant 
lane  leading  between  the  gardens  back  into  the  town. 

The  children  inspected  and  considered  everything  with  a 
wisdom  beyond  their  years,  pronouncing  it  very  satisfactory. 
Anna  especially  was  loud  in  her  praise. 

"  The  kitchen  is  my  province,"  she  said,  pressing  her  fore- 
head against  the  window.  Then  looking  into  the  bedroom, 


HOLYLAND  81 

"  I  shall  sleep  there,  and  the  two  boarders  from  the  cathedral 
school  upstairs,  and  I  will  look  after  them." 

"  What  will  your  brother  do  ?  "    said  Kai. 

They  exchanged  looks,  then  Pete  said  quickly,  "  Mother 
has  bought  a  knitting  machine ;  father  left  debts  —  sixty 
pounds  —  that  have  to  be  paid  off." 

"  We  don't  mind  telling  you"  said  Anna.  "  Mother  wanted 
Pete  to  go  to  the  technical  school  at  Itzehoe,  but  that  would 
have  meant  her  working  ever  so  hard  at  the  old  knitting 
machine.  So  it's  settled  Pete  is  going  to  begin  earning  straight 
off;  he's  going  to  sea  in  four  weeks  —  to  Hongkong  —  just 
think!" 

Kai  looked  at  Pete ;  there  was  a  new  expression  in  the  open 
face,  the  earnestness  of  a  set  purpose  that  has  counted  the  cost 
and  is  not  afraid. 

An  idea  came  into  his  mind,  possessed  it  with  irresistible 
force.  Suppose  he  were  to  go  out  into  the  wide  world  as  a 
sailor?  Pe  Ontjes  was  a  sailor.  Pete  was  going  to  be  one. 
Why  shouldn't  he?  He  no  longer  saw  or  heard  what  the 
others  were  doing.  ...  A  strange  coast,  what  sort  of  people 
live  there?  are  they  holy  or  not?  Somewhere,  somewhere  in 
the  wide  world  there  must  be  a  Holyland  —  if  there  is  not  life 
is  a  strangely  meaningless  affair.  .  .  .  Well,  the  only  thing 
was  to  search,  ask  the  people.  What  sort  of  people  live  there? 
What  is  their  manner  of  life?  And  to  go  right  round  the 
world  searching  and  asking;  only  so  could  one  get  to  know 
the  world,  and  somewhere  in  the  world  one  must  surely  find 
the  Holyland.  When  he  had  found  it,  then  he  would  come 
back  home  and  make  .  .  .  He  no  longer  saw  or  heard  what 
the  others  were  doing;  lost  in  his  own  thoughts,  his  own 
dreams,  he  walked  silently  beside  them;  in  the  harbour  street 
he  shook  hands  and  left  them. 

When  he  came  into  the  low  little  room  at  home  he  found 
his  parents  sitting  at  dinner  with  his  three  sisters  and  his  little 
brother;  there  were  pieces  of  potato  all  over  the  table,  a 
saucer  with  a  few  wretched  ends  of  bacon  in  the  middle;  that 
was  their  dinner.  The  hard  frost  had  kept  Thomas  Jans  out 
of  work  for  seven  weeks. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  at  the  door.  "  Pete  Boje  is  going  to  sea. 
I  want  to  go  too.  Don't  ask  me  whether  it  is  right:  I  know 
it  is  right.  Father,  I  must  go!  " 


82  HOLYLAND 

They  turned  pale,  and  silence  fell  upon  them.  They  looked 
down,  not  knowing  what  to  say.  If  a  son  had  come  home 
drunk,  even  though  he  were  thirty  years  of  age,  Thomas  Jans 
would  have  chastised  him  with  the  sudden  resolution  of  fierce 
anger.  But  now  that  his  fifteen-year-old  son  looked  up  at 
him  with  these  serious  eyes  and  said,  "  Father,  I  must  go,"  a 
vague  feeling  of  uneasiness  and  fear  came  over  him,  a  feeling 
that  he  dared  not  bar  the  way  on  which  his  son's  spirit  seemed 
to  be  sent  forth  as  if  by  great,  unknown,  and  secret  forces, 
sent  forth  to  find  strength.  There  was  a  mixture  of  humour 
and  bitterness  in  his  keen,  deep-set  eyes  as  he  murmured,  "  So 
—  to  sea  —  and  then,  the  lightship  .  .  .  and  so  a  labourer,  and 
the  best  room  empty,  always  empty." 

"  No,  father,"  said  he,  "  no,  trust  me  for  that.  My  eyes 
are  open,  I  shall  find  something." 

Little  Mala  Jans  sat  silent  by  the  table,  her  eyes  full  of 
tears.  She  only  thought  he  was  going  away  from  her,  and  to 
sea  — 

Four  weeks  later  the  two  boys  were  sitting  on  their  chests, 
looking  first  to  the  right  and  then  to  the  left  down  the  Ham- 
burg quay,  fairly  deserted  at  this  time  of  day,  and  then  across 
to  the  ship,  lying  at  anchor.  They  were  waiting  for  the  boat 
to  come  and  take  them  across.  Pete,  feeling  casually  in  his 
pocket,  came  upon  a  piece  of  paper.  Pulling  it  out  he  saw 
written  in  a  little  crooked  writing  that  he  knew,  "  Keep  God 
before  your  eyes  and  in  your  heart  all  your  life.  Guard 
always  against  sin  and  against  anything  contrary  to  God's 
commandment.  Your  loving  mother,  Hella  Boje."  Sticking 
the  paper  quickly  back  into  his  pocket  he  looked  down  the 
quay  again  as  if  nothing  had  happened,  wondering,  as  his 
father  had  done  sixteen  years  ago,  how  his  tall  clever  mother 
could  possibly  write  so  badly.  Kai  had  seen,  and  when  Pete 
looked  away  he  began  to  feel  secretly  in  his  pocket,  and  there 
he  found  a  piece  of  paper  right  enough.  He  pulled  it  out  and 
glanced  quickly  over  it.  He  recognized  it  at  once  as  one  of 
those  grand  poems  that  Heine  Wulk  was  so  fond  of  reprinting. 
The  title  was  "  The  Pious  Mother's  Farewell  to  her  Son  on 
Confirmation  Day."  Flushing  red  he  stuck  it  back  in  his 
pocket  without  another  thought. 


HOLYLAND  83 

Pete  craned  his  neck  and  said,  "  I  say,  who's  that  coming 
along?  Isn't  it  your  friend  the  Dusenschon  boy?" 

"  Very  likely,"  said  Kai,  "  he  has  been  four  weeks  in  Ham- 
burg." " 

It  was  Tjark  Dusenschon,  certainly.  He  came  along  tall 
and  straight-limbed,  a  graceful  figure  now  that  he  had  aban- 
doned the  stiff  walk  copied  from  the  mayor,  his  blue  tie  blow- 
ing about. 

"  I  knew  you  were  going  on  board  to-day.  It's  a  pity  for 
you  to  be  going,  Kai,  you  ought  to  have  gone  into  an  office 
like  me.  I  have  a  very  good  position  with  a  barrister." 

Pete  paid  no  sort  of  attention  to  him.  His  eyes  were  fixed 
on  the  ship  watching  the  people  go  on  board,  and  a  man  slide 
down  into  the  boat. 

"Where  are  you  going  now?"    said  Kai. 

"  I  am  on  my  way  to  meet  a  friend  who  is  going  to  introduce 
me  to  his  club  —  only  for  officials  and  their  wives.  I  don't 
care  anything  at  all  for  women,  but  that's  just  the  sort  of  per- 
son to  whom  they  are  most  useful.  Always  polite,  pleasant, 
cool,  you  see,  that's  what  I  am!  And  then  my  name  is  mag- 
ficent,  Tjark  Dusenschon,  and  my  royal  blood  —  " 

"  You  don't  talk  about  that,  do  you  ?  "    said  Kai. 

"  No,  not  I.  I  leave  that  to  others."  Seeing  the  boat 
approaching  he  stepped  back. 

"  Well,  boys,"  said  the  sailor,  "  there  you  are.  If  you 
haven't  got  sense  you  have  got  luck,  she's  a  right  good  ship. 
Is  the  long  thing  coming  too?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dusenschon,  taking  a  step  further  back. 

"  A  good  voyage  to  you !  "  and  waving  his  hat  gracefully 
he  stalked  away. 

When  the  boxes  were  on  the  thwarts  Pete  caught  hold  of 
the  oars  with  both  hands  and  pushed  the  boat  of!. 

"  Holloa,"  said  the  sailor,  "  so  that's  the  sort  you  are,  are 
you?" 

Kai  Jans,  lost  in  thought,  was  gazing  into  the  water. 

"Push  the  box  to  one  side,"  said  the  sailor — "a  philos- 
opher, eh  ?  "  he  said  to  Pete. 

Pete  gave  a  short,  scornful  laugh.  "  Yes,  he  is  looking  for 
a  kingdom ! " 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

IN  the  little  house  under  the  chestnuts  by  the  park  the  two 
Boje  girls  grew  up  apace,  very  tall,  very  slender,  with  masses  of 
thick,  fair  hair,  so  tall  indeed  that  strangers  who  happened  to 
pass  by  when  one  of  the  children  came  out  of  the  house  would 
say  in  surprise,  "  What  big  people  live  in  that  little  house !  " 
Anna  Boje  passed  her  seventeenth  year  and  entered  on  her 
eighteenth.  She  carried  her  magnificently  proportioned  figure, 
crowned  as  if  by  a  royal  diadem  by  the  waves  of  her  fair  hair, 
with  a  grace  of  movement  that  would  have  befitted  the  highest 
rank.  Nothing  in  Hilligenlei  was  so  beautiful  as  she.  Igno- 
rant alike  of  herself  and  of  the  world  she  dreamed  the  dreams 
of  girlhood  with  no  wishes  beyond  the  accomplishment  of  her 
household  duties  —  for  her  mother  sat  all  day  at  the  knitting 
machine  —  good  news  from  Pete,  and,  one  day,  a  clever,  hand- 
some husband  for  herself.  Heinke  was  in  her  eleventh  year, 
a  long-legged,  fair-haired  child,  with  dainty  clear-cut  features, 
and  eyes  as  grey  as  steel.  She  played  with  the  boys  of  the 
neighbourhood,  in  winter  in  the  park,  under  the  trees  or  on 
the  ice,  in  summer  on  the  sands  at  low  tide  right  out  to  the 
mouth  of  the  harbour  stream.  Like  her  sister  Anna  at  the 
same  age,  she  was  never  without  a  bruise  somewhere  on  hand, 
knee,  or  foot,  the  mark  of  a  push,  a  knock,  or  a  tumble;  and 
yet,  though  she  was  in  the  thick  of  everything,  shouting  and 
running  with  the  best  of  them,  she  was  reckoned  proud,  like 
her  sister,  because  of  a  kind  of  royal  dignity  in  their  erect 
bearing,  their  delicate  pink  and  white  faces,  their  calm,  clear 
eyes.  Heinke's  thoughts  did  not  travel  very  far.  When  she 
was  alone  she  thought  of  her  big  brother  Pete's  home-coming, 
with  a  certain  fear  of  his  being  rough  and  boorish ;  for  the 
rest  she  was  content  with  a  day  on  which  her  pride  was  grati- 
fied by  success  at  school,  and  her  mother  did  not  scold.  No 
day  passed  without  some  wrangle  with  Hett,  her  youngest 
brother,  who  wanted  everything  his  own  way.  His  mother 

84 


HOLYLAND  85 

loved  him  most  of  all,  and  always  took  his  part,  but  as  a 
matter  of  fact  he  was  a  liar,  greedy,  and  weak,  the  rotten  twig 
on  a  splendid  tree. 

Hella  Boje's  hair  lost  its  beautiful  sheen  in  these  years.  She 
could  not  get  into  touch  with  her  daughters,  their  shyness  kept 
them  from  any  expression  of  tenderness.  She  knew  that  they 
would  not  turn  to  her  until  the  years  brought  to  them  also 
understanding  of  a  man's  love  and  so  of  their  mother.  Now, 
therefore,  all  her  love  expended  itself  upon  her  two  sons,  one 
gone  out  into  the  wide  world  to  help  her,  the  other  so  pretty 
and  loving  in  his  ways,  who  put  his  arms  round  her  with  such 
coaxing  tenderness  although  a  big  boy  now.  It  was  of  them 
and  of  their  future  that  she  thought  as  she  sat  at  her  knitting 
machine  all  day  long. 

It  was  an  evening  in  April:  the  chestnuts  were  beginning 
to  be  spiked  with  green.  Anna  dawdled  instead  of  going  down 
to  Harbourmaster  Lau's  to  borrow  the  big  map  of  Eastern 
Asia  on  which  her  mother  followed  the  route  of  Pete's  ship 
with  never  wearied  interest.  ''  I  don't  like  going  now,"  she  said, 
"  that  great  Pe  Ontjes  is  there,  the  map  belongs  to  him.  Lena 
Winkler  says  he  gives  himself  the  airs  of  an  old  man  of  fifty, 
though  he  can't  be  more  than  twenty-four.  He  was  insuffer- 
able even  as  a  boy."  Her  mother  paid  no  attention,  merely 
remarking,  "  Go,  now,  don't  make  a  fuss." 

It  was  with  a  very  haughty  expression  that  she  took  off  her 
apron,  and  went  out  by  the  back  door  through  the  garden  into 
the  lane,  and  so  in  at  the  kitchen  door  to  the  harbourmaster's 
house.  She  hoped  to  find  the  mother  there  and  get  her  to  bring 
out  the  map.  She  was  there  washing  up,  but  her  only  reply 
was  to  say,  pleasantly  enough,  "Am  I  your  train-bearer?  Go 
and  get  it  for  yourself,  he  won't  bite." 

Mate  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  sat  by  the  table  at  work  on  a  big 
drawing.  Looking  up  calmly  he  said  in  the  tone  which  a 
young  mate  uses  to  a  sailor, 

"Well?     What  do  you  want?" 

She  stood  as  straight  as  a  dart,  anger  rising  within  her,  and 
told  him  in  a  high,  rapid  voice  the  reason  of  her  coming. 

He  got  up  in  his  slow,  comfortable  way,  and  took  down  the 
map  from  the  wall.  "  How  is  your  brother  getting  on? 
Rather  at  a  difficult  stage  just  at  present." 

"  How  do  you  mean,  Mr.  Lau?  " 


86  HOLYLAND 

"  Well,  about  eighteen  one  does  not  want  to  be  a  boy  any 
longer,  and  one  hasn't  quite  become  a  man." 

"  Pete  wants  to  be  what  he  is,  always,"  said  she,  "  he  hasn't 
got  such  an  immense  idea  of  himself  as  some  people." 

He  did  not  see  the  hit,  but  was  pleased  at  being  addressed 
as  Mr.  Lau.  His  tone  was  rather  more  friendly  as  he  said, 
"  Look  what  I  am  drawing  here." 

She  came  quietly  close  up  to  the  table  and  examined  the  draw- 
ing. As  she  did  so  he  looked  at  her  and  was  conscious  of  a 
curious  feeling  of  pleasure  in  the  contemplation  of  the  strength, 
health,  and  purity  of  this  handsome  girl,  a  feeling  such  as  one 
has  when,  after  going  far  and  passing  thousands  of  houses, 
forgotten  as  soon  as  seen,  one  suddenly  comes  upon  one,  stand- 
ing in  a  quiet  green  garden,  full  of  an  intimate  charm  that  so 
sets  it  apart  from  all  the  others  that  even  after  one  has  passed 
it  also  one  cherishes  a  tender  remembrance. 

"  That's  the  Hilligenlei  harbour  stream,"  he  said. 

"What's  the  drawing  for?" 

"  I  have  long  had  the  idea  —  " 

"  Fifty  years  at  least  —  "  said  she. 

"What  are  you  saying  about  fifty  years?"  said  he. 

"  You  talk  as  though  you  were  fifty,"  said  she,  calmly. 

This  froze  him  again.  He  said  coldly,  "  I  have  worked  out 
a  plan  for  having  the  channel  laid  straight  so  that  the  crab- 
fishers  can  get  quicker  to  their  lines  and  the  smacks  come  in 
and  out  at  any  time;  I'm  going  to  lay  it  before  the  mayor 
to-night." 

"  Indeed."     She  gave  another  hasty  glance  at  the  map. 

"  When  do  you  sail  again  ?  " 

"  To-morrow.  I  am  going  to  Samoa  as  mate  on  the  Gude 
Wife.  I  have  been  mate  for  the  last  three  years." 

"  Indeed,"  she  said,  tossing  back  her  head  so  that  he  could 
see  her  white  throat.  "  Pete  will  be  mate  in  two  years." 

The  force  of  unconscious  attraction  held  them,  but  they  tried 
hard  to  hurt  one  another  in  some  way. 

"  I  should  like  Kai  Jans  and  Pete  on  board  with  me  well 
enough,"  said  he,  as  if  lost  in  thought. 

"  I  daresay  you  would,"  said  she.  "  They  will  take  good 
care  of  that !  " 

"Why?"  said  he. 


HOLYLAND  87 

"Why?"  said  she,  standing  by  this  time  in  the  doorway. 
"  Why  ?  It  would  hardly  be  pleasant  for  them." 

"Why  not?" 

"  Well,"  said  she,  "  you  played  with  us  as  children,  and  now 
—  now  you  like  me  to  call  you  Mr.  Lau!  Mr.  Lau  indeed! 
And  who  are  you  ?  Think  of  that  time  on  the  sandbank !  " 

Suddenly  it  flashed  across  his  mind  that  he  had  stood  naked 
before  her.  She  blushed  and  cried  out  in  an  outburst  of  un- 
controllable rage,  "  You  are  just  the  same  now,  just  as  insuf- 
ferable as  you  were  then.  That's  what  I  wanted  to  say  to  you. 
So  there!" 

She  banged  the  door  and  was  gone. 

When  she  got  home  she  said  to  her  mother,  "  He  is  the  most 
insufferable  person  in  the  whole  world,  and  a  fool  to  boot.  I 
am  not  going  to  Aunt  Lau's  again  as  long  as  he  is  there." 
Then  she  went  to  prepare  supper. 

After  supper  a  mad  idea  took  possession  of  her;  she  would 
run  down  the  lane  into  the  town  hall  garden.  The  mayor 
always  sat  with  his  curtains  drawn  back  so  that  everyone  could 
see  him  at  work.  She  would  give  a  cautious  peep  in  at  the 
window. 

As  soon  as  it  was  dark  the  idea  was  carried  out.  She  took 
up  her  position  among  the  shrubs  by  the  window.  There  was 
Pe  Ontjes  Lau  standing  by  the  big  table,  his  drawing  spread 
out  in  front  of  him.  At  the  table  sat  Daniel  Peters,  hand- 
some and  dignified,  the  two  aldermen  beside  him,  struggling 
not  to  fall  asleep.  Pe  Ontjes  was  saying  with  his  usual  calm 
assurance,  "  That's  what  must  be  done." 

The  mayor  twisted  his  beautiful  silky  moustache  and  began 
affably,  with  a  side  glance  at  the  two  old  men, 

"My  dear  Mr.  Lau —  Then  he  began  a  discourse  on 
what  he  called  a  "  sound  system  of  local  administration," 
which  seemed  to  have  every  reasonable  prospect  of  lasting  in- 
definitely. While  he  was  still  in  full  train  Pe  Ontjes  suddenly 
packed  up  Hilligenlei  and  the  harbour  stream  under  his  arm 
and  saying  calmly,  "  I  will  reserve  my  scheme  for  the  new 
mayor,"  departed  with  his  drawing. 

Anna  Boje  was  still  standing  confused  and  annoyed  by  such 
behaviour  when  she  heard  his  step  draw  near.  He  also  was 
making  his  way  home  through  the  garden. 

"  Hullo,"  said  he,  mockingly,  "  Eavesdropping?  " 


88  HOLYLAND 

"  What  is  that  to  you  ?  I  can  stand  where  I  choose,  I  sup- 
pose?" 

"  You're  a  cross-grained,  quarrelsome  chit,"  said  he,  in  a  tone 
of  serious  annoyance.  "  Unless  you  change  you  will  come  to 
no  good." 

"  Who  are  you  to  speak  to  me?  "  said  she,  "  when  you  can't 
even  spell  channel  —  on  your  drawing  it  was  written  channal 
—  channal !  You  didn't  learn  much  at  school.  Do  you  sup- 
pose I  don't  know  that?  You  only  got  to  the  top  by  beating 
everyone  who  knew  more  than  you.  There!  " 

Pale  with  anger  he  turned  away.  Going  in  the  opposite 
direction  she  breathed  deep  with  excitement,  thinking.  "  You 
will  never  hate  anyone  so  much  in  all  your  life  as  you  hate 
him."  She  absolutely  revelled  in  this  new  feeling  until  it  spread 
so  as  to  fill  her  soul,  while  she  imagined  ways  of  showing 
him  her  boundless  contempt,  and  wondered  whether  Pete  could 
help  her  to  pain  him.  "  I  wish  I  could  do  him  some  harm. 
If  I  could  only  harm  him  somehow."  Her  spirit  was  troubled 
with  dark  confused  thoughts,  and  her  lovely  eyes  had  a  hard 
look  in  them.  She  gave  a  quick  sob.  Then  she  walked  down 
the  chestnut  walk  towards  her  house,  and  then  turning  up  and 
down  several  streets  till  she  became  more  calm,  a  great  longing 
filled  her  for  someone  towards  whom  she  could  feel  friendly. 
For  some  time  she  could  not  find  anyone ;  then  near  Ringerangs 
inn,  under  the  lime  trees  on  the  further  side  of  the  park,  she 
came  upon  a  farmer's  son  who  had  sat  next  to  her  in  school 
at  Friestadt.  He  recognized  her,  and  waited  till  she  drew 
near. 

"  I  knew  you  from  your  walk,"  said  he.  "  I  should  know 
you  half  a  mile  off!  "  He  walked  by  her  side  and  told  her  he 
had  come  back  the  day  before  yesterday  from  serving  in  the 
army. 

It  was  quite  exciting  to  have  this  handsome  boy  walking 
by  her  side,  so  full  of  friendliness.  Anna  talked  in  a  way 
unusual  for  her,  about  her  mother,  and  Pete ;  asked  him  about 
his  sister  and  one  mutual  friend  after  another,  and  as  they 
talked  their  eyes  filled  with  a  tender  pleasure  in  one  another 
that  rose  higher  and  higher. 

"  What  dear  eyes  he  has!  " 

"  How  dear  and  pure  her  eyes  are!" 

"What  a  delightful  laugh,'' 


HOLYLAND  89 

"  How  I  should  like  to  touch  her  hair  with  my  hand;  it  is 
so,  so  beautiful." 

"  Dear  boy,  how  nicely  he  speaks  of  Pete." 

"  If  I  could  only  press  her  to  me  once,  and  hold  her  fast!  " 

When  they  turned  into  the  lonely  limewalk  that  goes 
across  the  park  tovthe  chestnut  trees,  his  thoughts  became  more 
and  more  insistent  and  absorbing;  he  became  silent,  and  she 
likewise,  quite  silent.  In  his  young  manhood  he  thought  fear- 
fully. "  Dare  I  —  kiss  her?  she  is  very  proud.  .  .  ." 

Her  heart  thumped  and  her  throat  seemed  to  close  up  as 
she  thought,  "  He  is  going  to  kiss  me.  .  .  ."  She  thrilled 
with  the  sweet  joyful  thought.  When  they  came  to  the  last 
piece  of  shade  he  caught  hold  of  her,  and  kissed  her,  kissed 
her  many  times,  without  saying  a  word.  She  stood  quite  still 
in  unspeakable  confusion. 

When  he  let  her  go  she  ran  till  she  came  to  the  door  of  her 
house.  Then  going  into  the  kitchen  she  cooled  her  burning 
cheeks  and  brow  with  water ;  but  they  still  glowed  with  excite- 
ment. In  order  to  have  an  excuse  for  ^remaining  in  the  kitchen 
she  fetched  her  mother's  store  of  silver,  six  dessert  spoons,  a 
dozen  teaspoons,  and  a  sugar  bowl,  and  began  to  clean  it. 

Still  dreaming  herself  in  his  arms  she  rubbed  and  polished, 
and  in  the  midst  of  her  absorption  the  child  in  her  balanced 
each  spoon  between  two  fingers  of  her  uplifted  hand  so  that 
it  stood  out  bright  against  the  darkness  of  the  kitchen  wall. 

"  Oh,  how  heavenly  it  was  .  .  .  firm  and  strong  he  stood 
there  and  clasped  me  fast  ...  so  that  I  couldn't  move.  .  .  . 
Oh  the  joy  ...  the  wonder  of  it  ...  my  knees  felt  quite 
weak  ...  I  was  utterly  happy." 

Dreaming  thus,  her  hands  and  eyes  playing,  like  children 
left  alone,  with  the  spoons,  came  upon  the  names  written  upon 
them,  "  On  the  occasion  of  their  marriage  .  .  ."  it  stood  on 
each,  with  the  name  of  the  giver  and  the  date  after  it. 

"  I  wonder  what  mother  looked  like  then.  She  was  as  young 
as  I  am,  only  two  years  older  .  .  .  young  and  beautiful  and 
happy.  Oh,  what  happiness  to  be  always  with  the  one  one 
loves  best  in  the  world  .  .  .  that  must  be  lovely,  and  fearful 
too  at  the  same  time,  fearful  ...  oh  no,  not  fearful  at  all, 
altogether  lovely.  Then  the  first  baby  came  —  that  was  me. 
I  wonder  was  mother  very  big  then :  some  women  look  so 
hideous.  Was  she  very  ill?  How  long  did  they  live  alone 


90  HOLYLAND 

together  without  children?  .  .  .  Oh,  yes,  I  can  tell  from  the 
spoons."  Holding  a  spoon  up  against  the  light  she  counted 
from  tKe  wedding  day  to  her  birthday,  then  counted  again,  her 
lips  contracting  to  a  narrow  line  and  a  hard  expression  coming 
in  her  eyes;  she  threw  the  silver  noisily  into  the  drawer  and 
went  upstairs  to  her  room  without  saying  good-night  to  her 
mother. 

From  this  day  her  natural  pride  and  shyness  grew.  At  first 
she  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  going  along  the  limewalk 
when  she  had  shopping  to  do  in  the  evening,  to  stop  at  the 
spot  where  he  had  kissed  her,  standing  with  her  eyes  shut  to 
feel  all  the  sweetness  of  that  kiss.  Soon,  however,  she  forced 
herself  to  resist.  She  did  not  want  to  think  of  such  things. 
They  seemed  to  her  now  full  of  hidden  dangers,  like  the  soft 
grass  that  grows  above  a  bog;  she  felt  vaguely  that  hot  blood 
ran  in  her  veins,  and  was  uneasy  as  is  the  wood  in  May  when 
the  morning  grey  brings  the  first  birds. 

She  was  harsh  towards  her  mother,  speaking  as  little  as 
possible,  and  found  fault  continually  with  Heinke  and  Hett. 

In  autumn,  when  the  big  schoolboys  who  lived  in  their  attic 
threw  down  a  chestnut  or  a  branch  to  her  as  she  passed  below 
she  took  no  notice. 

When  she  went  to  balls  she  was  in  great  request  as  a  dancer, 
especially  among  men  who  danced  well.  The  exquisite  grace 
with  which  she  danced  and  her  superb  beauty  made  it  a  joy 
to  move  and  be  near  her;  but  no  one  ever  ventured  to  invite 
her  to  take  a  glass  of  champagne  or  stroll  under  the  dark  trees. 
And  she  noticed  that  this  was  so,  and  she  grew  more  and  more 
proud  and  scornful,  and  pretended  that  she  had  no  inclination 
for  such  things,  almost  persuading  herself  that  it  was  the  case. 

Her  mother  bore  her  eldest  child's  coldness  in  silence,  remem- 
bering her  own  restless  unhappiness  at  that  time  in  her  life, 
and  feeling  powerless  to  help.  She  worked  all  day  at  the  knit- 
ting machine  to  pay  off  the  sixty  pounds  of  debt,  taking  every 
penny  and  shilling  that  Pete  sent  from  his  small  earnings  for 
that  purpose  carefully  wrapped  up  in  paper  to  the  savings  bank, 
to  be  ready  for  the  naval  school,  longing  for  the  day  of  his 
return  to  come  at  last. 

Autumn  came  again  with  its  beautiful  days  of  fresh  wind 
and  clear  sunshine;  and  the  sun  shone  through  the  little  win- 
dow above  the  door  into  the  dim  little  passage,  and  at  last  the 


HOLYLAND  91 

postman  came,  and  this  time  with  a  parcel.  A  parcel !  After- 
wards they  could  hardly  tell  how  they  had  all  managed  to  get 
into  the  passage  together;  the  little  place  was  illuminated  by 
the  fair  heads.  Then  they  took  the  parcel  into  the  sitting 
room.  Heinke,  always  ready  and  never  in  a  hurry,  had  the 
chisel  ready  in  her  hand  to  break  the  wood  open ;  and  she  took 
out  the  little  Chinese  boxes  carefully  packed  close  together 
inside  in  a  strange  fibrous  kind  of  straw.  The  name  of  the 
owner  was  on  each. 

"  That's  yours,  mother."  Hella  Boje  sat  down  on  her  chair 
beside  the  machine  and  touched  the  shiny  black  wood  with 
trembling  fingers. 

"  He  bought  it,"  she  said  softly,  "  he  held  it  in  his  hand," 
and  her  eyes  suddenly  filled  with  tears. 

Anna  gazed  in  silence  with  an  expressionless  face  at  the  deli- 
cate object  in  her  hand,  thinking  with  a  secret  softening  of  the 
heart  of  the  brother  whom  she  dearly  loved. 

Heinke  had  put  aside  her  song  book,  and  taking  off  her  jet 
necklace  placed  it  in  her  box,  admiring  its  workmanship  and 
praising  her  absent  brother  in  affectionate  tones.  "  It  is  too 
sweet  of  him,  mother.  .  .  .  One  thing,  mother,  Hett  sha'n't 
have  this  one,  anyhow." 

Hett  looked  around,  ready  to  complain  if  the  others  had 
come  off  better  than  he  had;  seeing  no  present  grievance  he 
went  out  to  play. 

Hella  Boje  held  the  letter  in  her  hand,  but  could  not  read 
it  because  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"  Read  it  out,  mother." 

"  I  can't,  dear :    you  read  it." 

So  Heinke  read: 

"  MY  DEAR  MOTHER,  —  I  bought  this  for  you  the  day  we 
came  here,  Hongkong,  from  Vladivostock.  I  wanted  to  give 
it  to  you  myself,  but  now  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion  I  am 
not  going  to  come  back  to  Hilligenlei  until  I  can  go  straight 
to  the  navigation  school.  That's  another  year  from  now.  I 
am  earning  more  here,  you  see.  I  don't  know  whether  Kai 
Jans  will  go  with  me  on  to  my  next  ship.  You  see  we  have 
served  our  time  now  and  we're  on  the  lookout  for  a  first-rate 
sailing  vessel.  If  he  wants  to  come  with  me  again  I  shall  be 
quite  glad,  for  he  is  really  a  nice  fellow,  but  I  don't  depend 


92  HOLYLAND 

upon  it.  I  expect  he  will  stay  with  rn,e  because  he  needs  to 
have  somebody  to  talk  to  about  everything,  and  he  can't  do 
that  with  the  old  sailors.  He  is  an  extraordinary  creature. 

"  Dear  Anna,  you  can  keep  darning  needles  in  your  box. 
You  must  have  a  great  deal  to  do  for  the  two  children.  What 
am  I  saying?  Heinke  must  be  a  great  girl  by  now  and  Hett 
is  eleven !  When  I  was  buying  your  box  the  Chinaman,  hav- 
ing no  respect  for  my  eighteen  years,  tried  to  cheat  me.  He 
didn't  see  our  sail-maker  standing  behind  me,  however,  and  he 
gave  him  such  a  box  on  the  ear  that  he  fell  down  on  the  mat- 
ting. So  here  it  is.  I  have  had  to  buy  a  new  suit  of  clothes, 
my  old  coat  was  quite  done,  and  I  had  grown  out  of  it.  I  have 
still  seventy-five  shillings  in  my  box  which  will  come  to  you 
soon  after  this  parcel.  Fifty  shillings  are  to  go  into  the  savings 
bank  for  the  navigation  school,  twenty-five  to  go  to  paying  off 
father's  debts,  if  you  are  well  and  can  spare  the  money.  Dear 
Anna,  be  a  good  daughter  and  don't  let  mother  sit  all  day  at 
the  knitting  machine.  If  I  keep  my  strength  I  can  pay  off 
father's  debts  in  five  years.  She  is  not  to  sit  doubled  up  for 
that!  Dear  mother,  you  are  not  to  worry  over  the  stockings, 
I  can  darn  my  own  just  as  well  as  Anna  does  them.  I  can  tell 
you  there's  not  a  button  missing  on  any  of  my  shirts  or  drawers. 
Always  smart,  that's  the  first  thing:  then  second,  attention! 
and  third,  never  contented  —  always  learning  and  getting  fur- 
ther on.  Trust  me,  my  eyes  are  always  open.  There  was  a 
young  American  on  board  our  old  ship,  he  only  wanted  to  see 
the  world,  he  said,  that  was  all,  and  then  become  whatever  he 
chose.  His  father  is  a  clergyman.  I  learnt  a  great  deal  from 
him.  Never  say  die  —  that's  my  motto ;  one  must  always  be 
ready  and  bright,  and  I  am  that,  you  can  be  sure.  Kai  is  no 
good  at  it,  he's  always  so  shy,  like  neighbour  Martin's  two- 
year-old —  do  you  remember  it,  Anna?  Once  we  ran  after  it 
for  half  a  day.  You  wanted  to  ride  on  him,  but  we  could  not 
catch  him. 

"  Dear  mother,  I  have  decided  always  to  go  on  a  sailing 
vessel.  Lots  of  people  think  they  are  going  out  of  fashion,  but 
the  captain  said  to  the  mate,  '  You'll  see,  mate,  big  sailing  ves- 
sels will  always  be  the  cheapest  for  heavy  freights  and  long 
distance  journeys.'  A  little  while  ago  a  lovely  American  sail- 
ing vessel  passed  us,  magnificent,  I  can  tell  you.  It  hadn't  any 
more  canvas  than  we  had,  but  it  beat  us  for  all  that.  The 


HOLYLAND  93 

mate  swore  and  the  captain  pretended  not  to  see.  I  examined 
it  to  see  how  it  was.  In  Vancouver  and  San  Francisco  I  spent 
the  whole  day  at  the  docks;  I  enjoyed  myself,  I  can  tell  you. 
A  dock  like  that  is  my  Hilligenlei,  my  Holyland. 

"  Kai  Jans,  I  do  believe,  went  to  sea  to  find  it.  Every  time 
we  go  on  shore  he  cranes  his  neck  and  goes  among  the  people 
and  through  the  streets  with  his  eyes  open  ever  so  wide,  not 
saying  a  word.  We  were  in  Vancouver  for  twenty  days,  and 
pretty  free.  He  got  hold  of  an  extraordinary  old  sailor  who 
went  on  shore  there  and  they  went  off  for  three  days  right 
through  the  town  and  up  into  the  mountains.  Afterwards, 
when  we  were  being  towed  out  of  the  harbour  he  forgot  his 
work  and  everything  in  gazing  over  to  the  mountains;  and 
suddenly  he  said  to  me,  '  Do  you  know,  there  is  a  magnificent 
country  there,  beyond  the  mountains,  wide  and  broad  and  clean 
as  if  it  was  holy.  I  shall  go  and  settle  there  one  day,  I  think.' 
The  end  of  the  story,  of  course,  was  a  talking  to  from  the 
mate.  All  the  time  we  have  been  away  from  Hilligenlei  he 
hasn't  got  to  know  anyone  except  me  and  the  queer  old  man. 
He's  always  by  himself  or  listening  with  wide-open  ears.  They 
all  like  him  because  he's  a  good  fellow,  always  ready  to  help ; 
and  when  the  steward  was  so  ill  he  burst  into  tears. 

"  Dear  mum,  when  I  come  home  you'll  be  astonished  to  see 
how  big  and  brown  I  have  got.  You  can't  imagine  what  my 
hands  are  like.  Goodbye.  Keep  well,  and  think  often  of  your 
loving  son  and  brother, 

"  PETE  BOJE." 

Each  of  them  read  the  letter  at  least  three  times  to  herself, 
and  they  talked  it  all  over,  with  occasional  intervals  of  silent 
thought.  Then  Hett  came  in  and  went  to  bed.  Then  Anna 
and  Heinke  went  too  —  Anna,  cold  as  usual,  without  saying 
good-night;  Heinke  quiet  and  gentle. 

Holla  Boje  sat  for  an  hour  at  the  machine.  The  dull, 
monotonous  tick-tack  of  the  lever  went  on  in  the  low,  little 
room.  Then  she  went  into  the  bedroom.  She  went  up  to  her 
children's  beds  and  bent  over  their  faces  —  first  Hett,  her 
youngest;  in  the  dim  light  of  the  lamp  she  could  see  the  strongly 
marked,  obstinate  lines  of  his  handsome  face ;  then  Heinke ;  and 
for  a  long  time  she  stood,  lost  in  thought,  as  she  gazed  at  the 


94  HOLYLAND 

clear,  calm  face  with  its  open  features  and  strong,  beautiful 
mouth. 

Going  across  to  the  room  where  Anna  slept,  she  saw  as  she 
looked  down  upon  her  that  the  time  was  not  far  off  when  she 
would  be  a  woman  —  a  strong,  passionate  woman,  like  herself. 

She  went  back  to  the  other  room,  and,  sitting  on  the  edge 
of  her  own  bed,  thought  of  the  conversation  she  had  more  than 
once  had  with  her  husband.  "  Unless  our  children  are  fortu- 
nate enough  to  come  early  into  good  hands,  they  are  almost 
sure  to  suffer  much."  Folding  her  hands,  she  began  to  pray 
fervently  for  her  children. 

As  the  ardour  of  her  prayer  abated,  her  thoughts,  now  more 
at  rest,  came  to  her  hero,  her  brave  one  in  the  far,  far  distance, 
wondering  how  he  looked  and  whether  he  were  now  voyaging 
on  a  new  ship.  So  she  fell  asleep  and  dreamt  —  dreamt  that 
she  saw  his  ship,  a  tall  and  graceful  vessel  with  two  masts 
placed  in  front  at  a  curious  angle.  And  it  was  cast  from  side  to 
side  by  a  heavy  swell,  purposelessly,  as  if  by  the  hands  of  wanton 
children.  She  seemed  to  see  the  deck  desolate  and  ruined,  and 
thought,  "  That  is  no  Hilligenlei."  She  stood  anxiously  on  the 
bank  gazing  at  the  ship,  and  saw  it  distinctly  —  how  distinctly! 
Yes,  there  it  was,  driven  on,  tossed  and  turned  by  the  swell 
that  rose  in  waves  as  big  as  houses. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE  schooner  Clara  from  Hamburg  drove  before  a  light 
breeze  and  heavy  swell  on  the  southern  China  sea.  She  had 
suffered  severely  in  the  eight  days'  storm,  having  lost  half  her 
rail  and  the  whole  of  the  forecastle,  to  say  nothing  of  the  main- 
sail. 

They  had  chosen  very  ill.  Fourteen  days  ago,  when  they 
were  hanging  about  the  quay  at  Hongkong,  the  Clara  lay  in 
harbour,  long  and  narrow,  with  her  masts  bent  very  far  for- 
ward. Pete,  who  devoured  every  vessel  with  his  eyes,  stared 
across  at  the  schooner  till  its  boat  came  to  land,  and  then  he 
asked  its  name  and  destination  of  the  awkward,  emaciated- 
looking  man  who  sat  in  it,  looking  at  them  with  anxious  eyes. 

"  Havre,  with  tea  and  matting.  We  want  two  hands.  I  am 
the  mate." 

They  asked  one  question  after  another,  Pete  casting  longing 
eyes  the  while  at  the  grey  schooner.  Then  they  stepped  back 
and  consulted  together.  They  would  rather  have  gone  to 
America,  'Frisco,  or  Vancouver  on  one  of  the  huge  wooden, 
four-masted  schooners,  new  and  strongly  built,  and  the  best 
pay  in  the  world.  But,  after  all,  where  they  went  did  not 
matter  much,  and  the  schooner  was  splendidly  built,  certainly. 

They  took  their  leave  of  the  good  old  ship  with  everything 
in  order,  but  their  consciences  were  strangely  perturbed,  and 
they  shrank  away  as  if  doing  something  that  they  would  not 
like  to  be  seen. 

They  had  now  been  eight  days  at  sea,  and  knew  that  they 
had  done  a  very  stupid  thing. 

The  captain  was  drunk  all  day  long;  the  mate  was  a  fool, 
who  should  have  been  a  tailor  instead  of  a  sailor.  The  cook, 
an  elderly  man,  generally  more  than  half-drunk,  had  been  on 
the  Clara  for  years,  and  in  the  course  of  time  got  the  captain 
completely  under  his  thumb.  The  crew  —  twelve  hands  in  all 
—  had  been  picked  up  eight  days  ago  in  Hongkong  and  Macao 

95 


96  HOLYLAND 

from  the  ends  of  the  earth.  There  was  a  Hamburger,  who  had 
destroyed  himself,  body  and  soul,  with  brandy;  a  tall,  pale 
Frenchman,  two  Austrians,  a  Dutchman,  three  Italians,  two 
Belgians,  a  short,  pleasant  little  Dane,  and  a  dirty  labourer  from 
Gateshead,  who  was  lame.  They  were  all  young  and  inexpe- 
rienced, all  more  or  less  possessed  by  the  brandy  fiend.  Not 
one  of  them  was  over  two-and-twenty. 

And  the  vessel  ?  What  is  the  use  of  graceful  outline  if  every 
week  you  have  to  spend  an  hour  at  the  stiff,  creaky  pump,  and 
canvas,  ropes,  and  metal-work  is  all  rusty  and  mouldy? 

And  now  the  storm  had  washed  away  the  whole  forecastle, 
with  galley,  bunks,  chests,  sacks  —  everything  in  it.  They 
stood,  now,  on  the  greasy  decks,  the  ship  rolling  heavily  from 
side  to  side,  most  of  them  half-drunk,  all  of  them  wet  to  the 
skin,  hungry,  and  cold.  Some  were  clearing  away  the  ropes 
that  hung  about  the  scupper  holes;  others  were  mending  the 
wretched  old  sails;  others  patching  the  railing,  cursing  the 
while,  and  discussing  the  damage  that  had  been  done. 

Pete  Boje  sat  half-buried  in  a  sail  with  an  angry,  forbidding 
expression  on  his  face,  Kai  Jans  beside  him,  splicing  a  topsail 
yard.  His  features  looked  drawn  and  pinched  —  showed  the 
signs  of  exhaustion  and  want  of  sleep.  They  shpank  from 
meeting  each  other's  eyes,  in  shame  of  their  own  stupidity. 

Then  the  others  began  to  mock  at  Pete  Boje.  "  Come  now, 
Hilligenleier,  what  are  you  working  so  hard  for?  Why  do  you 
always  hang  about  the  captain  and  the  mate  when  they  are  on 
deck?  And  why,  when  it  isn't  your  watch,  do  you  lie  on  deck 
in  the  cold  instead  of  going  to  sleep?  " 

Pulling  himself  together,  Pete  laughed  pleasantly  and  said, 
"  It's  because  I'm  afraid  for  all  your  lives  that  I'm  always  on 
the  watch,  day  and  night." 

Thereupon  they  said,  "  Not  if  we  know  it!  We  don't  trust 
you  the  least,  not  in  the  least!  " 

"  He's  false !  "  said  several  voices. 

"  Only  yesterday,"  said  the  Austrian,  "  I  had  just  had  a 
glass,  and  was  busy  splicing  —  not  fast  enough  for  him.  He 
wrenched  the  rope  out  of  my  hand  and  glared  at  me  like  a  wild 
beast,  I  can  tell  you  that." 

Then  up  spake  Kai  Jans,  the  silent,  and  laying  his  thin  hand 
on  his  breast,  "  I  will  lay  my  life  on  his  honesty.  I  have  known 
him  since  he  was  a  child." 


HOLYLAND  97 

They  were  silent  with  astonishment. 

After  a  time  Kai  Jans  came  up  to  Pete.  "  I  say,"  he  said 
in  a  low,  thick  voice,  "  if  you  have  any  game  on,  play  it  for  all 
it's  worth,  so  that  they  may  not  suspect  anything."  Suddenly, 
as  he  said  this,  the  thought  crossed  his  mind  of  why  he  had  left 
Hilligenlei  and  gone  out  into  the  wide  world.  Hot  tears  rose 
to  his  eyes.  "  This  hideous  hole  will  make  an  end  of  us!  "  he 
groaned. 

"  Head  up,"  said  Pete ;  "  don't  be  afraid.  As  sure  as  God 
is  in  Heaven  and  I  keep  strong,  in  spite  of  all  this  filth,  we 
shall  see  Hilligenlei  again.  Come,  lying  and  deceiving  and 
eyes  always  open  —  that's  what  does  it." 

A  time  of  misery  followed.  They  slept,  stowed  away,  with 
fourteen  men  in  the  wretched,  dark  hole  forward.  When  the 
captain  was  off  duty  he  sat  in  his  cabin,  drinking  and  sleeping 
and  tinkering  at  dainty  little  models  of  sailing  ships,  of  which 
he  had  constructed  at  least  fifty,  all  different  and  all  correct  in 
every  detail.  Each  of  them  had  in  its  hold  a  paper  with  par- 
ticulars of  speed,  weight,  and  numbers.  He  played  with  them 
endlessly,  drinking  the  while. 

"  I  will  tell  you  about  the  old  'un,"  said  the  Hamburger. 
"  You  must  know  that  when  he  was  young  he  had  a  lovely 
shipbuilding  yard  on  the  Reiherstieg  at  Hamburg.  When  he 
took  to  drinking,  howrever,  he  let  his  business  go  to  rack  and 
ruin.  He  was  bankrupt,  and  went  to  sea." 

In  his  watch  he  used  to  sit,  huddled  up,  without  moving,  on 
the  skylight,  one  of  the  models  on  his  knee,  staring  first  at  the 
dainty  little  object  in  his  hand,  and  then  out  to  sea. 

The  mate  was  oppressed  and  uneasy  among  the  men.  Now 
that  he  had  to  share  their  quarters  he  lost  the  last  of  his  assur- 
ance—  hardly  dared  to  say  anything  to  them.  They  took  no 
notice  of  him  at  all. 

The  cook  stirred  the  dirty  semi-raw  food  in  a  big  iron  pot 
held  together  at  the  top  by  pieces  of  twine.  The  beans  were 
hard,  the  salt  fish  smelt  bad,  and  the  biscuits  began  to  be  alive. 
However,  they  took  what  came,  since  the  cook  had  the  brandy 
under  lock  and  key.  Drinkers  do  not  mind  dirt. 

Eight  days  more,  and  the  tall,  pale  Frenchman  became  ill. 
His  legs  swelled.  He  hobbled  along  the  leeward  side,  catching 
hold  of  the  railing  as  he  gazed  out  to  sea,  full  of  homesickness. 


98  HOLYLAND 

His  parents  were  respectable  people,  but  an  early  taste  for  gin 
had  ruined  health  and  character. 

Soon  one  of  the  Belgians  sickened.  He  got  as  yellow  as  a 
quince,  as  he  lay  with  burning  eyes  in  the  dark  corner  of  the 
captain's  room  on  a  bit  of  old  sailcloth,  his  hands  folded  on  his 
breast,  eating  nothing  except,  now  and  then,  a  bit  of  mouldy 
biscuit,  which  the  Frenchman  dipped  in  brandy  and  forced 
between  his  unwilling  teeth. 

The  others  kept  well,  but  were  always  either  drunk  or  lazy. 
Pete  Boje  worked  like  two  men,  and  watched  like  three.  He 
got  as  thin  as  an  underfed  hound,  but  his  iron  strength  was 
unbroken.  Poor  Kai  Jans,  ( always  slight  and  fragile,  seemed 
to  shrink;  his  chest  sank  and  his  back  got  bent  as  if  there  were 
a  heavy  sack  of  corn  on  his  young  shoulders;  he  walked  wearily, 
and  his  eyes  had  a  dry,  unhealthy  glint. 

In  this  miserable  plight  they  drove  south  to  the  burning 
southern  islands,  and  the  smell  aft  became  unendurable.  Kai 
Jans,  Pete,  the  Dane,  the  mate,  and  the  Frenchman  —  the 
whole  forecastle  watch  —  got  matting  out  of  the  hold  and  made 
a  sort  of  hut  on  deck.  There  they  lay,  and  at  night  looked  up 
to  the  calm  splendour  of  the  tropical  sky,  the  tops  of  the  masts 
grazing,  the  stars. 

They  saw  that  the  captain  often  went  to  sleep  on  his  sky- 
light, the  ship's  model  held  carefully  in  his  hand  —  a  most 
curious  picture  in  the  starlight  —  and  went  down  below  from 
time  to  time  to  refill  his  wretched  little  lamp;  and  they  saw 
the  bottle  going  round  amidships,  and,  therefore,  they  resolved 
that  one  of  them  must  always  be  on  the  watch.  But  Kai  Jans' 
eyes  would  not  keep  open. 

Thus  they  slowly  approached  the  Malay  Archipelago.  The 
wind  was  very  squally,  and  kept  hauling  forward.  On  the 
fourth  night  they  all  fell  asleep,  exhausted  by  work  and 
wretchedness.  Suddenly  a  loud  banging  noise  awakened  Pete. 
Rousing  himself  by  a  violent  effort  of  will,  he  sprang  up,  and, 
running  aft  with  a  loud  cry,  seized  hold  of  the  helm.  A  black 
squall  was  driving  hard  against  the  sails.  The  man  sat,  dead- 
drunk,  at  the  wheel.  Pushing  him  aside  with  his  foot,  Pete 
exerted  all  his  strength  to  port  the  helm.  The  others  came  up 
and  leaped  to  the  braces,  calling  to  the  watch.  The  watch  was 
huddled  together  in  a  drunken  sleep.  They  had  to  pull  down 
the  topgallant  sail  alone.  The  ship  recovered  itself. 


HOLYLAND  99 

The  mate  was  desperate:  he  smote  his  forehead  with  his 
hand. 

"  What  am  I  to  do?    What  am  I  to  do?  " 

''Overboard  with  the  brandy,"  said  Pete;  "now,  this  very 
moment.  There's  the  cook  lying  there  —  he's  got  the  key." 

"  That's  no  good,"  said  the  mate,  shaking  his  head  despond- 
ently. "  I  did  that  once,  but  the  captain  quite  lost  his  head, 
and  the  cook  spat  in  the  pot."  Sitting  down  on  the  companion, 
his  hands  folded  between  his  knees,  he  became  lost  in  thought, 
and  said:  "  If  I  get  home  this  time  I  shall  give  it  up  and  buy  a 
public-house  at  the  wharf." 

"  Yes,"  said  Pete,  bitterly,  "  if  we  ever  see  a  wharf  again." 

"  I  know  the  owner,"  said  the  little  mate,  opening  his  eyes 
wider  and  wider.  "  He  has  large  feet,  and  a  face  like  an  ox. 
The  Clara  is  on  the  condemned  list ;  it  will  have  to  go.  That's 
why  it  has  such  a  captain  and  mate." 

Suddenly,  eighteen-year-old  Pete  Boje  was  close  by  his  side, 
and  said  to  him  with  blazing  eyes :  "  Mate,  let  us  speak  frankly, 
as  one  man  to  another."  He  struck  himself  on  the  breast. 
"  Will  you  manage  to  get  the  captain  to  give  me  the  starboard 
watch?  " 

"  He  won't  do  it,  Hilligenleier  —  never!  What  would  the 
cook  and  the  Belgian  say  ?  " 

"  I  am  twenty-two.  I  was  two  months  at  Emden,  until  the 
money  came  to  an  end." 

"  No  good,  Hilligenleier  —  not  a  bit  of  it." 

"  Thy  father  has  a  dockyard  in  Hilligenlei:  I  grew  up  among 
the  shavings.  I  used  to  tear  my  stockings  on  the  splinters. 
Tell  the  old  'un  that.  .  .  .  You  know  it's  true,  Kai  Jans." 

"  Yes,  it  is  so,"  said  Kai,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  I  can  take  my 
oath  on  it,  mate."  The  mate  got  up  and  walked  away.  Pete 
Boje's  face  contracted  until  it  was  positively  ugly. 

"  I  will  flatter  him  up  all  I  know,  but  the  day  I  leave  this 
ship  I'll  spit  in  his  ugly  face." 

"  Be  quiet,"  said  Kai,  anguish  in  his  face,  yellow  with 
fever. 

Soon  afterwards  the  captain  himself  appeared  and  called  for 
Pete  Boje.  He  looked  straight  at  him  with  his  true  honest 
eyes,  and  told  him  everything  he  wanted  to  know.  Whereupon, 
calling  his  watch  together,  he  said  to  them :  "  From  now  on, 
do  ye  hear,  Pete  Boje  has  my  watch." 


ioo  HOLYLAND 

Immense  excitement.  Pete  swore  furiously  that  he  would 
not  take  it. 

Kai  Jans  said  in  a  tone  of  contempt:  "Navigation  school, 
indeed !  You  can  do  without  that !  " 

Even  the  kindly  little  Dane,  who  had  stood  by  them 
staunchly,  remarked  that  he  liked  Pete;  but  this  was  out  of 
order,  and  order  must  be  preserved.  They  all  lied  right  and 
left:  a  magnificent  display  of  Saxon  cunning.  Gradually  the 
others  calmed  down  and  said,  "  Let  him  stand  there  on  the 
poop  and  hold  the  helm  and  watch  himself;  we'll  have  our 
supper." 

So  this  evening  Pete  took  the  first  watch,  leaning  over  the 
compass  and  gazing  with  restless  keenness  at  the  sails.  Kai 
Jans,  transferred  to  the  larboard  watch  along  with  him,  stood 
with  aching  limbs  and  heavy  head  by  the  helm,  his  arms  twitch- 
ing from  hard  work  at  the  pumps. 

The  rest  of  the  watch  got  more  drunk  than  ever.  About 
midnight,  one  of  the  Italians,  a  very  young  good-natured  fellow, 
who  had  taken  to  drink  for  want  of  food  and  a  kind  of  false 
pride,  came  aft  with  a  full  bottle  in  his  hand,  which  he  offered 
to  Pete,  staggering  and  saying  something  in  his  own  language. 
Suddenly  overcome,  Pete  seized  hold  of  him  and  pressed  him 
to  his  breast,  looking  at  him  with  distraught  eyes,  saying:  "  Je 
veux  voir  ma  mere,  coquin!"  then  let  him  go.  He  went  for- 
ward cursing.  "  Kai  Jans,  mon  cher,  using  your  hands  and 
legs  is  not  enough;  you  must  use  your  head  too,  as  I  do.  Do 
you  know  a  Hilligenlei  boy  told  me  once  that  you  could  tell 
stories.  Now  then,  open  your  mouth,  and  talk  to  them  so  that 
they  forget  this  swilling." 

"Pete,  I  can't  —  I'm  too  shy." 

"  The  wind  is  getting  up,  and  they  won't  watch ;  there  is 
four  foot  of  water  in  the  hold,  and  they  won't  pump." 

"  Pete,  I  can't.  I  can  do  it  all  right  in  my  head,  but  tell  it 
to  them  —  I  can't." 

"Kai  —  you  must.  We  want  to  get  to  Hilligenlei,  don't 
we?  Only  get  us  to  Capetown,  and  then  we'll  run  away.  Kai, 
once  we're  at  Capetown  we'll  run  .  .  .  ." 

So  Kai  went  down  the  companion,  dragging  one  foot  after 
the  other,  and  said  cheerfully :  "  Now,  boys  —  we  must  pump 
a  bit." 

"Pump!  .  .  .  Come  and  drink  with  us,  man." 


HOLYLAND  101 

"Very  well.  .  .  .  but  now  come  to  the  pumps!" 

They  began  to  pump,  but  soon  got  tired  of  it.  "  That's 
enough."  "  Lord,  what  hard  work." 

"  Yes,"  said  Kai,  "  my  grandfather  was  better  off  than  I 
am." 

"What  has  your  grandfather  got  to  do  with  us?" 

"What's  my  grandfather?  He  had  a  queer  experience,  I 
can  tell  you." 

"Tell  us  about  him,"  said  the  little  Dane;  "tell  us  about 
your  grandfer." 

"Go  on  —  we'll  pump  a  bit  the  while." 

"  Well  .  .  .  about  my  grandfather.  For  a  great  many  years 
he  was  a  thresher  with  a  man  called  Ohle  Griesack;  and  this 
man  .  .  .  every  evening  he  used  to  fill  his  huge  boots  with 
corn,  and  so  bring  home  about  four  pounds  of  corn  every  eve- 
ning. That  was  the  sort  of  creature  he  was." 

"  Go  on  —  we'll  pump  a  bit  more." 

"  The  mad  thing  was  that  he  had  not  a  bad  conscience  about 
it.  If  he  had  the  parson  wouldn't  have  said  anything  to  him. 
But  when  Ohle  Griesack  came  home  and  shook  out  his  boots, 
he  used  to  laugh.  Of  course,  that  would  not  do  for  the  parson, 
and  he  went  to  him.  He  sat  himself  down  with  his  full  weight 
in  the  armchair,  and  rattled  off  some  twenty  or  thirty  texts. 
But  Ohle  Griesack  remained  unmoved.  All  that  did  not  mat- 
ter to  him,  he  said :  he  might  do  anything  that  his  conscience 
approved  of.  He  felt  he  had  a  right  to  take  the  corn,  and  was 
never  happier  or  more  peaceful  than  when  he  sat  down  in  his 
armchair  of  an  evening,  took  off  his  boots,  and  shook  out  the 
corn.  What  the  parson  said  was  so  much  Greek  to  him.  He 
got  quite  jovial,  poured  the  parson  out  a  glass  of  brandy,  and 
wished  him  as  good  a  conscience  as  his  own.  Well  —  so  the 
same  evening  the  parson  went  to  talk  to  God  about  it." 

"  Let's  pump  a  bit,  now." 

"  Well  —  first  of  all,  God  thought  of  going  Himself.  Then 
he  sent  one  of  His  lieutenants.  Towards  evening,  when  Ohle 
Griesack  was  slowly  making  his  way  home  across  the  fields, 
feeling  pleased  with  himself  and  with  his  heavy  boots  on  ... 
who  should  he  see  sitting  on  Ahrens'  hedge?  The  angel  Ga- 
briel. His  heavy  white  wings  hung  down  to  the  ground,  and 
when  he  got  down  one  wing  stuck  on  a  nail,  so  that  he  had  to 
unfasten  it  with  his  white  hands.  Then  he  went  with  Ohle 


102  HOLYLAND 

Griesack  and  talked  to  him.  But  he  stood  firm.  With  the 
best  intentions  he  could  not  do  it ;  if  he  were  to  look  into  every 
hole  and  corner  of  his  inner  nature,  with  a  lantern  —  like  the 
poor  woman  in  the  Gospel  —  he  could  not  find  a  single  dark 
or  dirty  spot  for  the  devil  to  turn  in.  He  invited  the  angel  in, 
took  off  his  boots,  and  shook  out  the  corn  in  his  jovial  way; 
then  going  in  stockinged  feet,  he  fetched  the  brandy  flask,  and, 
apologizing  for  having  only  one  glass  in  the  house,  he  drank 
with  the  angel  and  was  glad  that  he  approved  of  the  flavour. 
The  angel  went  to  God,  and  told  Him  how  it  was  ...  all  as 
it  should  be!  So  —  " 

"To  it,  again,  boys!  " 

"  Well  .  .  .  then  said  God.  '  There  is  no  help  for  it.  I 
must  put  on  my  boots  and  go  and  speak  to  Ohle  Griesack  my- 
self.' He  got  up,  not  meaning  to  have  a  whole  day's  work 
with  the  business,  but  to  polish  it  off  before  breakfast,  and  so 
he  went  on  the  morning  of  our  Lord  —  in  aller  Herrgottsfriih 
—  and  was  already  sitting  on  a  sack  of  wheat  when  Ohle  Grie- 
sack and  my  grandfather  came  in  to  the  threshing  floor.  Ohle 
Griesack  was  rather  frightened  when  he  saw  the  Lord  God  sit- 
ting there  on  the  sack  of  wheat,  without  any  state,  but  with 
immemorial  eyes:  eyes  that  were  not  made  yesterday.  He 
spoke  to  Ohle  Griesack  in  friendly  fashion;  but  to  no  purpose; 
none  at  all.  Ohle  was  a  stout  little  person,  with  high  round 
shoulders.  He  drew  up  his  shoulders  a  shade  higher,  so  that 
he  really  looked  as  if  he  had  three  heads,  and  said:  If  God 
would  only  be  so  good  as  to  give  him  a  bad  conscience,  he 
would  be  very  much  obliged :  he  could  not  manage  it  for  him- 
self, though  he  had  taken  a  great  deal  of  trouble  over  it. 

"  God  went  away  without  more  ado ;  but,  of  course,  he  did 
not  care  about  being  seen  up  on  high,  and  so  he  spent  the  whole 
day  hanging  about  the  harbours  in  London  and  Hamburg. 
Evening  came,  however,  and  he  had  to  go  home.  You  can 
imagine  they  made  faces  there  behind  his  back,  glad  that  the 
Chief  had  failed  for  once.  So  they  sat  down  to  supper  and 
enjoyed  it  very  much.  Then  God,  who  always  sits  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  lifted  up  his  grey  head,  and  commanded  Death, 
who  always  stands  at  the  door,  to  go  and  bring  Ohle  Griesack 
that  night  to  the  end  of  his  journey,  and  then  go  to  the  old  sur- 
geon Riihrnann  in  Hilligenlei,  and  tell  him  to  be  ready  to  take 


HOLYLAND  103 

off  Ohle's  cap  in  the  morning.     He  wanted  to  know  what  was 
wrong  with  the  man,  he  did." 

"  To  it  again,  boys ;  pump  away !  " 

"  Well  ...  so  it  happened.  My  grandfather  watched  by 
the  side  of  the  man  till  he  died.  Very  early,  next  morning, 
when,  my  grandfather  had  just  lit  Ohle's  short  pipe,  which  he 
had  taken  in  compensation  for  his  watching,  in  came  first  old 
Ruhmann  and  then  God,  with  two  of  His  angels.  Old 
Riihmann  cut  away,  and  the  angels  bent  over  Ohle.  God  sat 
comfortably  in  Ohle's  armchair,  looking  round  the  room,  well 
pleased  to  see  it  so  clean.  Then  old  Ruhmann  shook  his  head 
and  said  he  could  not  find  anything, 

'  No,  nor  we  either,'  said  the  two  angels.    '  He  is  just  like 
everybody  else.' 

"  Then  God  gave  a  deep  sigh  and  said  '  What  a  lot  of  trou- 
ble about  a  Holstein  working  man !  '  Then  he  got  up,  and 
taking  the  brain  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  he  examined  it  with 
his  clear,  shining  eyes.  Then,  after  looking  at  it  for  a  short 
time,  he  said :  '  Yes,  look  here.  Do  you  see  this  little  twist 
.  .  .  there  .  .  .  and  here,  again  —  it  turns  aside  just  the  least 
bit.  Do  you  remember  that  time  when  we  examined  the  great 
poet's  brain?  The  twist  was  just  the  same,  only  it  went  the 
opposite  way:  one  a  thief,  the  other  a  poet!  What  an  endless 
trouble  and  fuss  these  men  do  make.  They  trouble  and  fuss 
and  judge  —  they're  always  judging.  It's  simply  incredible 
how  they  always  know  best,  and  always  find  fault  with  every- 
thing. And  yet,  only  two  days  ago,  the  Saviour  made  my 
meaning  clear  enough  to  them:  '  "  Judge  not,  but  see  that  your 
land  is  holy  "...  Do  not  forget,'  he  said,  '  that  Ohle  dines 
with  us  this  evening;  his  clean  room  pleased  me.'  " 

Kai  Jan  told  stories  all  the  time  they  sailed  past  Borneo 
towards  the  Sunda  Strait.  He  sat  on  a  spar,  and,  taking  his 
hands  from  his  knees,  which  had  become  as  sharp  and  hard  as 
flints,  he  spread  out  his  fingers  as  if  holding  a  golden  ball  in 
them  to  prevent  it  from  rolling  away.  His  big  nose  had  got 
sharp  and  pinched,  and  under  his  thoughtful  forehead  his  eyes 
shone  like  a  fire  beneath  a  dark  grate.  The  sailors  said  to  one 
another  in  astonishment :  "  What  has  happened  to  him  ?  He 
was  the  quietest  of  -us  all,  and  now  he  tells  such  stories." 

He  began  to  rejoice  in  his  weird  gift,  and  in  a  voice  hollow 
with  hunger  and  exhaustion,  he  told  them  all  sorts  of  stories, 


104  HOLYLAND 

mostly  of  the  sea.  The  cook  and  the  mate  were  laying  evil 
plans,  and  the  crew  was  in  subjection  to  them.  The  captain 
was  very  ill.  But  then,  lo!  the  storm  clouds  came  .  .  .  cross- 
ing the  mead  of  heaven  .  .  .  like  great  black  swine,  getting 
bigger  and  bigger,  and  darker,  and  covering  sky  and  sea  .  .  . 
and  then  —  suddenly  —  there  came  down  angels  from  heaven 
and  stood  there  in  crowds.  And  from  the  stern  God's  clear 
voice  rang  out  —  a  hard,  hard  judgment.  There  was  nothing 
on  earth  or  in  heaven  that  did  not  present  itself  in  glowing  pic- 
tures to  his  sick,  over-strained  mind.  The  pale,  sickly  French- 
man lifted  up  his  thin  arms  and  said :  "  O  Hilligenleier,  tu  es 
truly  un  bon  Catholique;  car  les  Saints  —  the  holy  —  run 
among  the  people."  The  cook  only  stared  at  the  brandy-bottle 
in  his  hand.  Pete  stood  at  the  poop  gazing  at  the  compass  and 
the  sails.  The  captain,  by  his  side,  stared  gloomily  across  the 
sea. 

"  I,  Pete  Boje,  from  Hilligenlei,  am  to  drown  —  and  why? 
To  give  that  rich  blackguard  with  the  big  feet  his  money?  No, 
thank  you.  Although  my  eyes  are  burnt  out  of  my  head  by 
thirst  and  fever  and  weariness,  I  am  going  to  see  Hilligenlei 
again.  Hush  .  .  .  mother  raises  her  head  .  .  .  she  has  stopped 
working  the  machine  .  .  .  hush  .  .  .  children  .  .  .  what  a 
quick  step  that  is  ...  Anna,  Heinke  ...  do  you  hear?  Our 
door.  Yes ;  oh,  oh,  Pete !  —  Pete,  my  dear  boy ! 

"  Captain,  you  have  never  had  a  mate  who  had  to  ask  so 
many  questions!  " 

"  Ask  away ;  you're  a  man  with  the  desire  and  the  power  to 
learn  —  that's  what  matters." 

"  Show  me  another  model,  captain." 

"  I'll  bring  up  a  couple." 

"The  sails,  captain?" 

'  They  are  right." 

"  Thank  you,  captain." 

"  Look  here :  this  model.  .  .  ." 

They  got  safely  to  the  Indian  Ocean,  and  through  the  mon- 
soon, and  held  their  course.  Their  existence  was  wretched 
enough.  The  bacon  was  putrid,  the  biscuit  and  the  meal  alive, 
the  water  bad,  their  only  shirt  a  torn  one.  The  tongue  clave  to 
the  roof  of  the  mouth,  their  eyes  were  burning.  They  jumped 
and  sang,  always  on  the  watch,  lying  through  thick  and  thin. 

"  Laugh,  Kai  .  .  .  don't  look  so  sour  ,  .  .  tell  the  black- 


HOLYLAND  105 

guards  a  story  .  .  .  what's  the  matter,  man?  Have  you  been 
drinking  —  you?  For  shame!  " 

"  Pete,  I  can't  drink  the  water."  He  looked  at  him  with 
piteous  eyes.  "  I  sha'n't  get  drunk,  you  needn't  be  afraid  — 
never.  You  needn't  look  at  me  like  that.  I  say,  the  Dutch- 
man is  furious  because  you  snatched  the  bucket  away  from  him. 
He  is  quite  drunk,  and  raging  against  you.  Speak  pleasantly 
to  him,  somehow." 

"  I  will  go  afterwards  and  embrace  him !  Go  and  tell  them 
a  story." 

Kai  Jans  told  them  a  story.  His  tales  grew  unnatural  and 
violent.  His  fevered  imagination  drove  his  fantasies  rushing 
like  wild  beasts  into  their  muddled  brains.  He  told  them 
about  the  women's  ship.  "  A  crew  of  twenty  women :  just 
think:  all  young,  and  all  mad  with  love:  the  captain  the  most 
beautiful  of  all.  When  their  desires  grew  uncontrollable,  that 
is,  about  once  a  month,  they  used  to  make  up  to  some  ship  in 
the  night,  on  the  open  sea.  Ships  side  by  side  .  .  .  they  jumped 
on  deck  .  .  .  just  imagine,  boys,  if  that  were  to  happen  to 
us !  "  They  all  discussed  it  till  they  roared  with  excitement, 
and  so  to  the  pumps;  and  he  shouted  to  them  in  time  to  the 
groaning  of  the  pump,  so  that  the  wild  pictures  stood  living 
before  their  eyes.  For  him,  indeed,  they  were  mere  stupid, 
empty  words;  he  was  still  pure. 

It  was  fortunate  that  they  escaped  storms,  and  that  the 
nights  were  clear  and  starlit,  for  the  mate  could  not  have 
held  out. 

"  Captain,  here  is  a  comfortable  chair.  My  father  always 
used  to  say  we  ought  to  build  the  sort  of  clipper  they  make  in 
Glasgow  —  steel,  with  sharp  bows  and  rounded  prow :  he  said 
we  were  far  behind  them.  America  and  England,  he  used  to 
say." 

"  I  built  three  of  that  sort,"  said  the  captain.  "  I  was  the 
first  in  Germany  to  do  it.  I'll  show  you  the  model."  He  got  up 
stiffly,  and  went  down  the  companion  with  unsteady  step,  re- 
turning with  the  model  carefully  under  his  arm.  Never  by 
any  chance  did  his  trembling  hands  break  one,  delicately  con- 
structed though  they  were. 

"  My  father  sent  me  to  Glasgow,  and  across  the  sea.  We 
two,  he  said,  were  to  teach  Germany  to  build  sailing  vessels. 
As  an  apprentice,  I  began  in  the  rivet  yard,  and  then  rose  to 


io6  HOLYLAND 

drawing.  I  was  quick  and  ambitious,  and  a  hard  worker. 
Afterwards,  I  built  ships  myself,  seventeen  of  them.  Then  I 
didn't  care  about  it.  I  went  to  sea,  and  now  I  am  on  the 
Clara"  He  looked  round  for  something. 

"  The  bottle  is  beneath  your  chair,  captain." 

"  My  brother,  the  youngest,  had  a  sandalwood  cradle ;  but 
when  I  gave  up  the  yard  he  lost  spirit  too,  and  now  he  is  a 
fireman  on  an  English  steamer.  Many  Germans  stoke  English 
fires.  Such  heat,  and  dirt,  and  darkness  —  poor,  ruined  Ger- 
mans." 

"  Drink,  captain,  to  get  rid  of  such  memories." 

"  The  bottle  is  a  curse,  mate,  but  I  can't  do  without  it.  We 
Germans  would  have  gone  far  if  it  were  not  for  this  accursed 
drinking."  He  took  a  big  draught,  and,  becoming  lively  again, 
explained  the  model.  When  his  voice  became  drowsy  Pete 
pushed  the  bottle  towards  him  and  he  drank. 

At  last  they  came  to  Capetown.  The  two  sick  men  had  to 
be  put  ashore.  Pete  and  the  young  Italian  rowed  them.  The 
captain  came,  too,  to  buy  more  drink.  Pete  remained  to  watch 
the  boat.  He  went  up  to  two  or  three  sailors  who  were  walk- 
ing about  the  quay,  but  they  did  not  tell  him  what  he  wanted ; 
so  he  went  on,  looking  about  him.  Then  a  very  young  sailor 
came  along  in  wide  canvas  trousers  and  shirt,  a  fresh-faced 
fair-haired  little  fellow,  with  a  quick  step  and  lively  eyes. 
They  recognized  countrymen  in  one  another. 

"I'm  on  a  three-master  from  Hamburg  —  the  Gude  Wife 
there.  Cargo  from  Hamburg  here.  To-morrow  we're  going 
to  the  South  Sea,  and  we  want  two  hands." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Pete,  giving  a  longing  look  at  the  ship  lying 
proudly  in  the  roadstead. 

"  What's  your  name?  " 

"  I'm  Hans  Jessen,  from  Brunsbiittel." 

"You  don't  mean  it!  Not  the  chemist's  son?  I  am  Pete 
Boje  from  Hilligenlei ;  and  there's  another  fellow  from  there  — 
Kai  Jans.  Is  your  ship  a  good  one?  " 

"Splendid!  We  all  came  from  Blankenese  and  Gliickstadt 
and  that  part." 

The  Hilligenleier  stared  in  front  of  him. 

"  I  expect,"  said  Hans  Jessen,  "  that  when  the  mate  hears 
you  came  from  Hilligenlei  he  will  manage  to  have  you  taken 
on. 


HOLYLAND      .  107 

"  Look,"  said  Pete,  pointing  to  the  Clara.  "  There  we  are. 
Tell  your  mate  two  fellows  from  Hilligenlei  are  simply  perish- 
ing there.  He  can  fetch  us  away  this  evening  about  ten  if  he 
will." 

Hans  promised  and  went  off. 

The  captain  came  staggering  along,  his  eyes  like  glass;  be- 
hind him  a  case  of  bottles.  They  rowed  back  to  the  ship. 
Pete  took  the  case  from  the  Italian,  and  carried  it  into  the 
captain's  room. 

"  Good  stuff,  captain  ?  " 

With  his  hoarse,  embarrassed  laugh  the  captain  struck  the 
bottle  with  a  trembling  hand  against  the  edge  of  the  desk  so 
as  to  smash  the  neck,  and  filling  up  the  glass  offered  it  to  him. 

"No  harm  in  that,"  said  Pete,  handing  back  the  glass  and 
looking  at  him  with  speaking  eyes.  "  Drink,  drink!  Have  a 
cosy  evening,  captain.  We  are  lying  here  very  snugly,  and  I'll 
answer  for  everything." 

The  larboard  watch  went  below;  the  starboard  sat  forward 
drinking.  He  went  up  and  down  the  poop.  Kai  Jans,  who 
wanted  to  keep  near  him,  sat  down  on  the  companion  and  went 
to  sleep.  He  had  not  said  a  word  to  him. 

After  an  hour,  it  being  now  dark,  he  went  down  into  the 
captain's  room  and  found  him  asleep.  Providing  himself  with 
the  keys  he  took  his  papers  and  Kai's,  and  taking  twenty  of 
the  best  models  he  put  them  in  a  sack  in  the  corner.  Then  he 
went  forward  with  five  bottles  of  the  rum,  and,  laughing  shyly, 
with  his  hand  to  his  ear,  he  said,  "  Sh-sh  .  .  .  here  are  five 
bottles  for  you  of  the  very,  very  best  ...  sh  ...  So  that  the 
old  'un  doesn't  notice." 

They  drank  in  silence  and  were  soon  asleep.  Kai  Jans 
slept  also. 

Soon  afterwards  he  heard  the  muffled  sound  of  oars  and  a 
cautious  call.  Pushing  over  the  sack,  he  went  to  Kai  Jans  and 
touched  him  on  the  shoulder.  He  stood  up  without  a  word 
as  if  he  had  been  expecting  the  summons,  and  followed  with 
half-closed  eyes;  following  the  teacher's  clear-eyed  son,  as  he 
did  in  all  practical  matters. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  clambered  on  board  the  Glide  Wife. 

"  Look,"  said  Hans  Jessen,  in  his  cheery  voice,  "  here  is  the 
mate." 

The  two  Hilligenlei  boys  looked  up  and  saw  a  tall  man 


io8  HOLYLAND 

approach,  pushing  aside  a  boy  who  was  in  his  way.  They 
recognized  him  in  the  starlight. 

"  Good  Heavens,"  said  Kai,  in  a  low  voice,  "  Pe  Ontjes 
Lau!" 

He  looked  at  them  with  a  calm,  distant  manner,  and  think- 
ing, "What  starved,  ragged  objects!"  asked  them  coldly  for 
their  papers. 

They  felt  in  their  pockets  and  showed  them  to  him. 

"  You  are  in  my  watch." 

When  they  were  going  below  Kai  saw  for  the  first  time 
that  Pete  was  carrying  a  sack,  and  heard  a  jingling  noise  inside 
it. 

"What  have  you  got  there?"  he  asked,  suppressed  anguish 
in  his  tone.  He  knew  already.  He  sat  down  on  the  ladder, 
and,  resting  his  head  in  his  hands,  said  in  despairing  accents, 
"  We  have  deserted  the  Dane,  who  was  always  so  faithful 
.  .  .  and  now,  we  are  thieves  .  .  .  and  .  .  .  oh,  how  he 
looked  at  me  ...  Ugh!  How  dirty  I  am." 

He  covered  his  eyes  with  his  hands. 

"  You'll  always  be  a  fool,"  said  Pete,  "  and  no  use  at  all." 
He  entered  the  cabin  with  a  distorted  face. 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  Gude  Wife. 

Let  there  be  no  mistake;  the  three-masted  full-rigged  Gude 
Wife,  built  on  the  model  of  Jan  Marbst's  pinnace. 

Who  has  seen  her?  Not  in  harbour,  her  naked  rigging 
standing  stiff  and  dry  as  a  withered  pine-tree,  the  temporary 
stay  collars  grinding  and  whirring,  the  men  working  noisily  in 
the  hold.  No,  not  then.  But  when  she  charges,  chased  by  the 
south-easterly  gale,  through  the  raging  seas,  sixty-three  degrees 
south,  off  Cape  Horn,  and  takes  one  grey  wave  after  another 
as  she  lies  on  one  side  with  storm  sail  set,  sheets  and  railing 
glistening  with  ice !  Or  when  she  holds  her  graceful  course  over 
the  endless  expanse  of  dazzling  sunlit  water  in  the  southern 
seas,  all  her  light  grey  sail  spread  like  five-and-twenty  light 
grey  wings,  the  pride  and  glory  of  her  distant  native  town? 
Or  when  she  labours,  buffeted  by  the  north-western  gale  of  a 
dreary  November  morning,  through  the  grey  waste  of  waters 
to  the  opening  of  the  Elbe,  or  past  the  Texel  breakers,  dashing 
white  and  terrible  on  either  side,  on,  brave  and  grand,  however 
the  weather  bends  her. 

Can  anything  be  said  against  the  Gude  Wife?  Is  there  a 
single  piece  of  mouldy  rope  on  board  her  to  annoy  the  sailor 
to-day,  and  throw  him  down  dead  upon  the  deck  to-morrow? 
Is  there  a  single  piece  of  superfluous  ornamentation  which  gives 
him  useless  trouble? 

Think  of  the  captain ! 

The  captain  is  Jan  Deeken  of  Blankenese.  True,  his  fine 
body  is  set  on  a  pair  of  short  bow-legs.  And  nobody  can  deny 
the  fact  that  he  goes  up  and  down,  up  and  down  the  deck  with 
short  steps,  head  sunk  on  his  breast,  till  he  suddenly  looks  up 
to  cast  a  rapid  glance  on  deck,  and  out  to  sea,  and  then,  drop- 
ping his  head  again,  spits  softly.  True  it  is,  too,  that  he  is  not 
precisely  soft-hearted.  But  what  of  all  that?  Was  he  not 
just?  did  he  not  provide  at  the  right  time  for  Christmas?  and 

109 


no  HOLYLAND 

did  he  not  give  the  cook  a  splendid  store  of  provisions?  and  — 
what  is  most  important  of  all  —  did  he  understand  his  pro- 
fession or  no? 

There  was  something  almost  uncanny  about  it.  It  seemed 
impossible  not  to  think  that  there  was  some  connection  between 
his  short-legged  body  and  the  elements.  The  whole  sky  was 
clear  blue,  not  a  cloud  anywhere  on  the  horizon,  and  a  steady 
breeze  blowing.  Suddenly  Captain  Deeken  stands  still ;  he  stops 
spitting.  All  the  sailors  stop  their  work  to  stand  and  look 
at  him.  He  lifts  his  head  and  snuffs  the  air.  Then,  turning, 
goes  straight  down  into  his  cabin  and  comes  back  wearing, 
instead  of  his  blue  cloth  cap,  an  old  woollen  cap  of  English 
make,  with  a  tassel  on  top,  pulled  down  to  his  ears. 

"  So,"  say  they  all,  "  he's  mistaken  this  time,"  so  they  all 
say.  "  He's  mistaken  —  the  old  'un !  The  Lord  be  praised !  " 

But  he  wras  never  mistaken.  Half  an  hour  later  the  first 
order  was  given. 

Could  anything  be  said  against  Jan  Deeken?  Not  possibly. 
The  laziest  sailor  —  if  a  lazy  sailor  were  conceivable  on  board 
the  Gude  Wife  —  had  nothing  but  praise  for  him. 

Then  think  of  the  mate! 

He  was  proud  —  no  doubt  about  that.  No  one  had  ever 
heard  him  make  a  joke:  it  was  only  seldom  that  he  was  even 
friendly.  It  was  not  till  much  later  that  he  used  to  joke, 
secretly  and  not  often,  with  Anna  Boje  and  her  children. 
But  he  never  bullied  or  swore  at  his  men  —  always  calm, 
always  polite.  And  he  knew  his  business. 

Have  you  seen  mate  Lau?  On  Sunday  mornings  as  he  went 
about  the  deck  in  fine  weather,  in  the  carpet  slippers  that  his 
mother  had  embroidered  for  him,  with  beautiful  coloured 
beads?  Or  that  time  when  the  boy  fell  off  the  beak  into  the 
canal ;  when  he  was  on  the  railing  in  an  instant,  throwing  out 
the  life-belt,  while  the  word  of  command  rang  out  clear: 
"  The  lee  boat  out !  "  Or  when  he  took  a  hand  with  the  rest ; 
that  time  when  they  were  worn  out  by  six  days  of  storm  south 
of  Cape  Horn,  and  five  men  could  not  bring  down  the  halliard, 
the  wind  was  so  fierce:  then  he  suddenly  took  hold  and  they 
found  themselves  all  five  sitting  on  deck!  Or  did  you  see  him 
turn  the  old  seaman  off  the  poop?  The  man  had  been  pilot 
on  a  Norwegian  barque  in  his  young  days,  with  his  certificate 
from  Trondhjem,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  until  the  brandy  fiend 


HOLYLAND  in 

robbed  him  of  his  certificate,  and  turned  him  off  the  poop  back 
to  the  forecastle.  Ordinarily  a  quiet  simple  fellow,  once  on 
land  he  would  drink  until  his  heart  grew  sick  within  him, 
and  then  he  would  climb  up  on  the  poop,  his  heart  full  of 
the  good  old  days.  But  when  he  looked  up,  there  was  mate 
Lau,  who  looked  at  him  and  said  a  few  words,  quite  quietly; 
and  he  went  grumbling  forward  again.  Or  if  you  had  seen 
him  as  he  sat  in  his  white  linen  suit,  with  a  bottle  of  soda 
water  in  front  of  him,  outside  the  little  tavern  at  Apia!  Up 
there  came  a  troop  of  pretty  brown  girls,  their  bodies  naked, 
save  for  a  wreath  of  flowers  round  the  waist,  and  smiled  at  him. 
He  looked  at  them  for  a  moment,  and  for  a  moment  his  eyes 
were  full  of  fire,  that  is  true;  only  a  moment,  and  then  it  was 
gone  —  absolutely  gone.  He  looked  at  them  calm  and  un- 
moved. Certain  it  is  that  anyone  who  knew  mate  Lau  of  the 
Gude  Wife  knew  a  strong  and  upright  man. 

Then  the  cook! 

The  cook  was  sublime.  Klaus  Gudewill  was  capable,  clean, 
smart;  and  no  captain's  cook,  either!  He  was  glad  to  set 
a  good  meal  before  the  aft  cabin,  but  for  the  fo'c'sle  it  was  a 
labour  of  love.  When  it  was  possible,  as  it  always  was,  he 
stole  for  the  fo'c'sle.  And  it  was  something  worth  while  to 
be  the  cook's  mate !  Last  and  not  least  he  possessed  the  quality 
of  a  true  ship's  cook:  he  told  stories  well,  and  could  sing.  His 
birthday  came  when  they  were  in  the  Apia  roadstead.  The 
captain  had  to  stand  him  grog  for  the  occasion,  and  then,  in- 
deed, what  yarns,  what  songs!  They  lay  on  the  deck  and  on 
the  spars  listening  to  him.  Last  of  all  came  the  "  Cook's 
Song,"  a  long  one,  with  a  verse  for  every  day  of  the  week. 
He  sang  right  to  the  end,  and  was  so  inspired  that  he  thought 
of  singing  the  captain  a  serenade;  but  he  declined,  spitting  as 
usual. 

Then  the  crew! 

The  crew?  An  unnecessary  question,  that.  A  good  ship 
and  a  good  captain  can  always  get  good  men  if  they  want 
them.  Jan  Deeken  wanted  them,  and  got  them. 

Captain  Deeken  did  not  trouble  about  the  starved  scare- 
crows that  had  come  on  board  in  the  Capetown  roadstead. 
The  mate  was  responsible  for  them.  And  he  did  not  trouble 
about  them  either.  Far  from  it.  He  looked  away  as  if  he 
had  never  seen  them,  as  if  he  had  never  shown  them  how  to 


112  HOLYLAND 

bite  off  an  eel's  head.  He  did  not  know  them.  Pete  Boje 
said,  "  He  is  puffed  up  with  pride."  From  time  to  time  Kai 
Jans  would  try  to  catch  his  eye,  fixing  an  imploring  gaze  upon 
him;  but  without  success.  On  the  fifth  day  of  their  being 
on  board  he  found  two  beautiful  clean  shirts  on  top  of  the 
little  trunk  that  had  been  assigned  to  him.  They  were  huge, 
and  the  name  had  been  cut  out.  Again  he  tried  to  meet  his 
eye,  again  in  vain.  So  he  went  silently  about  his  work,  with 
quivering  lips. 

The  crew  regarded  them  coldly.  They  had  almost  all  been 
six  to  ten  years  on  the  Gude  Wife,  and  formed  a  kind  of  set 
which  had  no  need  whatever  of  two  ragged  starvelings  —  they 
must  look  out  for  themselves,  and  see  to  their  behaviour.  No 
one  can  become  a  member  of  a  family  in  a  day.  Even  the 
boys  and  the  three  inferior  sailors  stood,  with  the  others,  aloof 
from  them. 

Our  two  heroes  of  the  Clara  found  themselves  very  small 
and  very  unimportant  all  at  once.  They  worked  zealously, 
were  modest  and  friendly  when  off  duty,  lied  hard  about  the 
company  they  had  left,  marvelling  at  what  seemed  to  them 
such  a  number-  of  wise  and  upright  men,  and  awaited  the 
progress  of  events.  So  things  went  on  for  thirty-five  days,  till 
the  great  storm  by  Cape  Horn  gave  them  their  position  among 
the  others. 

In  spite  of  a  heavy,  wet  north-wester  they  had  held  on  suc- 
cessfully to  63°,  and  had  come  far  enough  west  to  pursue  a 
northerly  course.  Suddenly  the  wind  veered  round  to  the 
south-west  and  raged  for  three  days  with  icy  squalls. 
Towards  evening  on  the  third  day,  when  the  deck  began  to 
be  frozen  over,  the  captain  produced  his  woollen  cap  with 
the  big  tassel.  Darkness  came  on,  and  the  steady  icy  wind 
blew  hard.  About  nine  o'clock,  when  it  was  pitch  dark,  the 
stir  of  wind  and  water  grew.  The  air  was  filled  with  an 
ominous  rushing  that  roared  and  whistled  in  the  masts  and 
rigging,  whistling  shrill  and  high.  Pete  Boje  happened  to  be 
at  the  wheel,  the  captain  stumping,  unwearied,  up  and  down, 
up  and  down.  Then  mate  Lau  took  the  wheel  and  said, 
"  Fetch  the  relieving  tackle." 

Pete  ran  and  soon  came  up  the  ladder,  the  tackle  in  his 
hand.  At  that  moment  a  heavy  sea  came  up  suddenly  from 
aft,  threw  the  Gude  Wife  forward,  and  knocked  the  old  cap- 


HOLYLAND  113 

tain's  wretched  legs  from  under  him,  so  that  he  seemed  in 
danger  of  a  bad  fall.  Lau  let  the  wheel  go  and  seized  the 
captain.  In  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  Pete  was  in  his  place, 
seized  the  wildly  whirling  wheel,  brought  it  to  a  standstill, 
drove  it  back.  The  pilot  handed  over  the  groaning  captain 
to  the  cook's  care,  and  crying  to  Pete,  "  Well  handled !  " 
gave  the  helm  to  the  boatswain,  signed  to  Pete  to  go  forward, 
and,  going  up  the  companion,  ordered  both  watches  on  deck 
and  all  three  upper  topsails  made  fast. 

The  men  stumbled  out  of  their  cabin  in  their  heavy  oilskins 
and  brailed  up  successfully.  The  storm  shrieked  wildly  round 
the  ship.  The  Gude  Wife  rolled  heavily.  Huge  seas  dashed 
over  her,  filling  the  main  deck  with  foaming  water.  Lightning 
darted  fearfully  across  the  dark  sky. 

The  larboard  watch,  ten  men  strong,  went  up  to  the  fore 
topsail;  the  starboard,  eleven  men  strong,  "to  the  main  topsail. 
It  was  pitch-dark  —  so  dark  that  one  could  not  see  one's  own 
hand,  and  a  sharp  hail  cut  against  their  faces.  Nevertheless, 
they  got  aloft,  and,  buffeted  by  the  wind,  caught  hold  of  the 
stiff  new  canvas  with  fingers  bent  and  frozen  with  the  cold. 
Kai  Jans  was  at  the  arm,  next  him  the  man  from  Dantzig,  and 
then  clever  little  Heine  Marquard.  Everything  went  well, 
although  the  Gude  Wife  swerved  at  least  thirty-five  degrees 
from  side  to  side,  and  they  could  see  nothing  but  the  lightness 
of  the  sails.  All  went  well.  The  sail  was  on  the  yard.  Kai 
bent  down  to  hand  on  the  gasket  to  the  Dantzig  man.  Trying 
to  catch  hold,  the  Dantzig  man,  a  tall  fellow,  bent  over  the 
yard.  Just  at  that  moment  the  Gude  Wife  gave  a  sudden 
lurch  forward.  A  frightful  cry  rent  the  dark  air. 

Kai  Jans  saw  nothing,  but  feeling  a  burning  pain  run 
through  the  hand  holding  the  line,  gives  a  loud,  wild  groan; 
looking  to  one  side  into  the  darkness,  sees  nothing  but  empti- 
ness there,  lays  his  hand  again  upon  the  sail  to  feel  once  more 
the  awful  pain,  lets  the  line  go,  and  climbs  down  after  the 
others  in  the  hideous  darkness  and  the  shrieking,  roaring  noise, 
whimpering  in  speechless  pain. 

The  starboard  watch  was  there  already  —  a  dark  spot  for- 
ward. Then  up  came  the  mate,  crying  aloud: 

"What  was  that  cry  up  there?" 

They  shook  their  heads.  One  said,  "  Somebody  gave  a 
shriek." 


114  HOLYLAND 

"  Twice  they  shrieked." 

Then  said  the  Norwegian,  Torril  Torrilsen,  in  his  calm 
voice,  "  I  think  that's  one  of  them  —  one  of  the  larboard 
watch,  mate." 

Pe  Ontjes  Lau  stretched  out  his  head  towards  the  larboard 
watch,  which  was  climbing  out  of  the  sheets,  and  cried  aloud, 
"  Kai  Jans,  my  boy." 

"  He  isn't  here  yet,"  said  Pete. 

Once  again  he  cried  aloud,  "  Kai  Jans,  my  boy,  art  there?  " 

At  last  he  came,  last  of  all,  stumbling,  sobbing,  on  to  the 
deck.  Seeing  before  him  in  the  darkness  the  great  Pe  Ontjes 
Lau,  he  ran  to  him  with  uncertain  steps,  and,  holding  up  his 
bloody  hand,  cried  out,  "  O  Pe  Ontjes,  dear  Pe  Ontjes,  my 
hand  is  all  torn  to  pieces.  I'm  a  cripple,"  and  he  held  out  his 
hand  as  much  as  to  say,  "  There  it  is  for  you."  "  The 
Dantzig  man  flew  from  the  yard,  and  tore  it  with  the 
line." 

Pe  Ontjes  Lau  had  taken  hold  of  him  by  the  shoulder. 
"  Be  quiet,  my  boy,"  he  said.  "  Pete,  take  him  aft  to  my 
cabin." 

The  others,  having  scattered  over  the  deck,  now  came  back. 

"  He  is  nowhere  on  deck." 

"  Boys,"  said  the  mate,  "  You  must  see  that  we  can't  pos- 
sibly put  about.  We're  going  ten  miles  an  hour  in  front  of 
this  storm." 

Then  Torril  Torrilsen,  the  Norwegian,  lifted  up  his  two 
hands  and  prayed  aloud,  "  Our  Father  — "  praying  quickly, 
to  bring  rest  to  the  struggling  soul. 

It  was  about  midnight. 

In  the  morning,  about  five  o'clock,  as  they  lay  with  both 
lower  topsails  reversed,  the  wind  got  up  more  and  more.  By 
six  the  main  deck  was  covered  with  a  wild,  white  sea,  foaming 
and  roaring,  and  mountains  of  water,  white  as  snow  against 
the  darkness,  flew  over  the  fore  deck.  All  hands  stood  on  the 
poop.  About  seven,  when  the  morning  grey  began  to  appear, 
wind  and  water  came  with  such  force  against  the  ship  that 
she  was  hove  on  her  beam  ends,  and  could  not  right  herself. 
They  stood  waiting  —  twenty  above  and  the  two  wounded 
below. 

"  It's  coming." 

"  No,  it's  not  coming." 


HOLYLAND  115 

Then  out  cried  the  mate,  "Topsail  sheets  up!  Who  vol- 
unteers? " 

Torril  Torrilsen  and  the  carpenter  tried  to  hold  Pete  back 
by  the  arms. 

Dierk  Peters  cried  out,  "  Let  me.  There  is  no  one  depend- 
ent on  me." 

"He  is  too  young." 

The  mate  tried  to  say,  "  I  will  go  myself." 

But  Pete  Boje  from  the  Friestadt  dyke  was  already  down 
the  companion,  up  the  railing.  Over  came  a  great  sea,  but 
he  ducked,  just  right,  with  his  arms  fast  round  the  post;  and 
then,  how  he  sprang  up!  like  a  fox  that  has  lurked  a  long  time 
behind  the  wall  when  he  sees  the  hare  coming  out  of  the 
wheatfield  in  the  morning  grey.  Now  he  is  by  the  forecastle. 
Now  he  has  let  go  of  the  railing.  Now  —  he  fell  heavily 
against  the  cabin,  leaned  against  it,  and  disappeared. 

The  next  moment  the  huge  light-grey  sail  flew  out;  whew! 
how  it  rises. 

Slowly  the  Gude  Wife  recovered. 

"Where  is  Pete  Boje?" 

"  He  won't  come  back." 

"  The  chain  hit  him." 

"  He's  too  young." 

The  mate  looked  quickly  at  Torril  Torrilsen.  "  You  are 
in  command  on  the  Gude  Wife,"  and  ran  down  the  com- 
panion. It  was  wonderful  to  see  the  roaring  water  clothe  the 
big  man  as  he  went.  Then  Pete  Boje  appeared  up  aloft, 
jumping  on  to  the  rail.  Half  way  they  met,  and  turned  back 
to  the  others. 

Seven  days  the  storm  lasted.  Seven  days  they  toiled  without 
taking  off  their  clothes,  mourning  for  the  man  from  Dantzig. 
No  one  uttered  a  jest. 

The  eighth  day  was  bright  and  sunny.  A  fresh  south-east 
wind  blew  them  over  the  sea  to  the  beautiful  distant  islands. 
They  packed  his  chest,  tied  it  up,  and  set  it  in  the  storeroom. 
Then,  putting  aside  all  thoughts  of  tempest,  death,  and  weari- 
ness, they  were  cheerful  once  more.  Kai  Jans  and  Pete  were 
now  received  as  true  comrades,  but  Kai  was  still  an  invalid. 
The  captain  had  put  back  the  torn  portions  of  his  thumb  and 
first  finger  in  their  right  place,  smeared  the  whole  with  oint- 
ment, and  made  an  elegant  bandage.  More  he  couldn't  do. 


Ii6  HOLYLAND 

Kai  went  up  and  down  the  deck  pale  with  pain  and  grief  at 
being  a  cripple  and  unable  to  do  anything.  He  did  as  much 
as  he  could  with  his  left  hand. 

By  the  third  day  Pe  Ontjes  could  bear  the  sight  no  longer, 
and  said  to  Pete,  "  What  are  we  to  do  with  him  ?  " 

"  Have  you  nothing  he  could  read,  sir?  That  might  give 
him  something  else  to  think  about." 

"  When  we  are  alone,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  "  you  might  drop 
the  sir." 

'  Just  as  you  like,"  said  Pete,  proudly. 

'What  sort  of  books  does  he  like?     Nautical  ones?" 

'No;    that  isn't  his  line." 

'Not  his  line.     He's  no  sailor,  then?" 

'  No,  of  course  not." 

'Oh,  ho!  "  said  Pe  Ontjes;    "that  alters  the  case." 

'  He  is  fondest  of  the  sort  of  books  you  read  at  school," 
said  Pete.  "  As  a  boy  he  read  the  French  grammar  through 
and  through.  He's  a  curious  being.  He  doesn't  see  anything 
that's  going  on  about  him.  He  sees  wonders,  that's  my 
opinion." 

Pe  Ontjes  looked  across  the  sunlit  water,  lost  in  thought, 
and  said,  as  if  to  himself,  "Yes;  that  is  what  he  is  like,  and 
it's  an  utter  mistake  for  him  to  have  become  a  sailor." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  said  Pete.  '  There  are  lots  of  people  who 
otoght  to  have  kingdoms,  but  where  are  they  to  get  them 
from?" 

The  mate  walked  aft,  thinking  deeply.  As  he  did  so  his 
eyes  happened  to  fall  on  Heine  Marquard,  squatting  on  the 
deck  with  his  cap  at  the  very  back  of  his  head,  leaning  against 
the  railing  and  scraping  off  the  rust,  whistling  softly  the 
while. 

"Tell  me.  You  did  Latin  at  school,  didn't  you?  I've  seen 
all  sorts  of  books  about  in  your  place.  It  was  Latin,  wasn't 
it?" 

Heine  Marquard  stopped  whistling  in  his  astonishment. 
"  Yes,"  he  said,  quite  taken  aback.  "  I  brought  the  stuff  with 
me,  and  sometimes  when  I  am  alone  in  the  cabin  I  amuse  my- 
self by  knocking  the  books  from  one  corner  into  the  other. 
One  must  revenge  oneself  somehow,  sir." 

"  Well,"  said  Lau,  "  you  would  be  doing  Jans  a  very  good 
turn  if  you  would  give  him  those  books  and  help  him  a  bit 


HOLYLAND  117 

with  them,  don't  you  know  —  just  show  the  main  road.     I 
expect  he  can  find  out  the  side  paths  for  himself." 

That  afternoon  Heine  Marquard,  son  of  the  Berlin  Coun- 
cillor, fetched  his  Latin  grammar  and  his  Caesar,  and  after 
spitting  exactly  like  Captain  Deeken,  and  making  a  number 
of  weird  gestures  expressive  of  horror  and  disgust,  squatted 
once  more  upon  the  deck,  and  began  to  point  out  the  "  main 
roads,"  finding  a  pleasure  in  them  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life.  Kai  Jans  sat  by  his  side  with  an  eager,  anxious  face, 
holding  up  his  hand  for  it  had  begun  to  suppurate,  and 
throbbed  painfully. 

They  all  took  to  him.  When  they  saw  him  secretly  loosen- 
ing the  bandage  and  looking  at  his  wound  they  all  came  up, 
inspected  it,  and  told  stories  of  remarkable  cases  of  healing. 
"You  needn't  be  afraid,"  they  would  say;  "it  will  get  all 
right.  You'll  be  able  to  pull  down  a  tree  with  it.  Only  wait 
and  see !  " 

When  he  sat  in  his  corner  reading  and  looked  up  they 
made  some  joke,  and  Jan  Petersen  pretended  to  defend  him 
against  all  the  others,  saying,  "You  stick  to  your  learning; 
that's  the  thing  for  you ;  "  and  to  the  others,  "  I  will  tell  you 
something.  When  I  was  at  school  there  was  a  boy  who  learned 
and  learned  till  his  head  swam.  He  was  always  at  his  books. 
He  learned  himself  into  a  fever  at  last,  and  his  mother  had 
to  put  him  to  bed." 

"What  happened  to  him?" 

"  What  happened  to  him  ?  They  put  his  books  into  his 
little  coffin  with  him.  He  asked  them  to  do  that,  you  see. 
When  a  man's  got  learning  in  him  there's  nothing  to  be  done. 
I  can  tell  you,  it's  as  bad  as  drink." 

They  did  not  care  so  much  about  Pete  Boje.  Though  he 
had  jumped  down  the  ladder  so  bravely  at  Cape  Horn  and 
was  mighty  friendly,  they  did  not  care  for  him.  They  felt 
that  there  was  something  behind  his  friendliness,  and  that  he 
wanted  to  rise  above  them.  Mate  Lau  saw  little  of  him, 
though  he  spoke  to  him  from  time  to  time. 
'  The  Clara  was  a  bad  ship,"  said  he. 

"  I  learnt  a  great  deal  there  all  the  same,"  said  Pete. 

"  I  know  the  captain  and  the  mate,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  con- 
temptuously. 


ii8  HOLYLAND 

"  That  explains  it,"  said  Pete.  "  They  were  not  much  like 
the  almighty  here  and  his  representative !  " 

"Oh,  indeed!"    said  Pe  Ontjes,  going  away. 

He  came  back  next  day  when  he  was  off  duty.  As  usual, 
Pete  was  sitting  rather  apart  from  the  others,  reading  a  book 
on  naval  architecture  which  Heine  Marquard  had  been  given 
by  his  father.  Lau  had  his  short  pipe  in  the  corner  of  his 
mouth,  and  seemed  to  be  in  a  good  humour.  He  only  smoked 
when  in  exceptionally  high  spirits. 

"  I  say,  how  is  your  eldest  sister?  " 

"  I  think  she  is  quite  well,"  said  Pete. 

"  How  old  is  she  now?   about  eighteen,  isn't  she?" 

"  Yes." 

"  What  does  she  write  to  you  about?  " 

"  Oh,   different  things." 

"  I  suppose  she  goes  now  and  then  to  see  my  parents?  " 

"  She  never  says  anything  about  it." 

"  Has  she  ever  said  anything  about  me  in  any  of  her 
letters?  " 

"  She  said  once,  '  I  hope  you  will  never  have  the  bad  luck 
to  get  on  the  same  ship  as  the  big  Lau  boy ! ' 

Pe  Ontjes  gave  a  short  laugh.     "  How  long  ago  was  that?  " 

"  Oh,  about  a  year  ago." 

"  So  long?  "  he  said,  in  a  tone  of  relief.  "  She  has  changed 
her  mind  since  then,  I  think." 

"  I   don't  imagine  so,"  replied  Pete. 

"What  does  a  brother  know  of  his  sister?"  remarked  Pe 
Ontjes,  turning  on  his  heel.  As  he  went  he  said,  "  You  can 
fetch  the  year's  numbers  of  the  English  Shipbuilders'  Journal, 
if  you  like.  There  are  lots  of  models  there.  You  know  Eng- 
lish?" 

"  Of  course,"  said  Pete,  indifferently. 

"  You  want  to  rise,  of  course.     Nose  in  air  —  I  see." 

'  That  is  in  the  family." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  said  Pe  Ontjes;    "it  is  that!" 

They  had  a  glorious  voyage.  Everyone  who  took  part  in  it 
remembers  it  —  most  vividly  of  all  those  who  afterwards  went 
ashore  to  follow  a  profession.  They  were  all  so  united. 
There  were  no  sets  among  them  —  no  cliques ;  they  were  like 
children  in  a  real  family.  Didn't  they,  like  the  village  chil- 
dren, change  their  games  according  to  the  seasons?  They  play 


HOLYLAND  119 

Puss  in  the  Corner  in  winter,  after  the  swine-killing;  tops 
and  tig  at  Easter;  dancing  in  summer;  and  in  autumn  they 
run  about  the  open  fields  flying  their  kites ;  and  in  the  same 
way  a  proper  ship's  crew  that  goes  far  out  over  the  wide,  deso- 
late sea,  has  special  games  for  special  times. 

When  they  had  rounded  Cape  Horn  there  was  a  great 
cutting  out  of  caps.  "  A  plate,  cook  —  a  big  one  and  a  little 
one."  Then  two  circles,  cut  round  the  plates,  the  difference 
to  make  the  edge,  and  there's  your  baker's  cap.  They  could 
easily  have  put  all  the  work  on  to  one  person.  Good  Torril 
Torrilsen  and  William  Baldermann,  who  was  rather  weak 
in  his  head,  would  gladly  have  made  the  few  caps  and 
finished  them  off  ready:  but  no!  like  properly-brought-up 
children,  they  all  took  their  part  in  every  game. 

Later,  when  they  got  into  the  southern  monsoon  they  fished 
and  caught  birds  —  every  man,  no !  every  child  of  them.  A 
bit  of  bacon  at  the  end  of  the  line,  and  they  all  gazed  over 
the  stern  into  the  water  drawn  by  the  keel.  Hans  Jessen  held 
the  line.  Then  Hinnerk  Lornsen,  looking  up,  "Boys!  here 
are  albatrosses.  Quick,  where's  the  sling?  " 

Hinnerk  Lornsen  plucked  them  and  stuffed  the  feathers 
into  a  canvas  pouch  which  he  brought  home  with  him.  His 
children,  seven  of  them,  sleep  in  the  little  red  house  behind  the 
Elbe  dyke  on  the  feathers  that  their  father  plucked  in  the 
South  Sea. 

Eight  weeks  later  they  had  rounded  Cape  Horn  again, 
after  a  few  rough  days,  and  were  slowly  taking  their  home- 
ward way  towards  Teneriffe  with  the  south-east  monsoon,  not 
touching  a  sail  for  three  whole  weeks.  Then  there  was  a  great 
carving  of  ships.  The  fore  deck  was  entirely  covered  with 
shavings.  The  best  of  all  were  made  by  old  Dierk  Peters, 
who  was  close  on  fifty.  As  a  young  man  he  had  become 
acquainted  with  a  pretty  Holstein  girl,  whom  he  met  in  a 
street  in  Hamburg.  She  yielded  readily  enough  to  the  fiery 
young  sailor.  He  treated  her  honourably  and  married  her. 
In  the  first  year  of  their  marriage  he  spent  twelve  days  with 
her  altogether.  The  first  time  he  came  home  she  was  quite 
beside  herself  with  joy.  The  second  time  he  found  a  strange 
cigar-case  on  the  window-sill.  The  third  time  his  child  lay 
in  the  cemetery,  and  she  could  not  even  tell  him  the  number 
of  its  grave.  The  fourth  time  he  found  her  lying  unconscious 


120  HOLYLAND 

on  her  bed :  when  she  awoke  and  saw  him  she  went  out  of  the 
room  and  did  not  return.  He  went  back  to  sea,  and  became 
quieter  and  quieter.  He  had  become  possessed  with  the  idea 
that  he  was  a  double  murderer  of  his  wife,  inasmuch  as  he 
had  brought  her  to  Hamburg  from  her  native  village,  and  of 
his  child,  inasmuch  as  he  was  the  cause  of  his  miserable  exist- 
ence, and,  therefore,  of  his  death.  He  came  of  a  stock  that 
bears  burdens  on  its  own  shoulders  instead  of  casting  every- 
thing on  Providence  or  Fate:  and  the  shoulders  have  grown 
broad  and  strong  in  the  process. 

He  carved  the  best  ship,  working  at  it  for  six  weeks  until 
they  reached  the  heights  of  Teneriffe,  and  presented  it  to  the 
mate.  When  Anna  Bojes's  little  children  lay  on  their  backs  in 
their  cradles  and  let  their  eyes  wander,  they  saw  either  their 
mother's  lovely  face  or  the  ship  hanging  from  the  beam  which 
had  been  carved  out  on  the  Atlantic  by  Dierk  Peters,  who 
called  himself  a  double  murderer. 

Pete  carved  too.  He  was  clever  enough  to  take  his  part 
in  all  the  games  which  the  Gude  Wife's  children  played;  but 
he  soon  withdrew,  and  sat  buried  in  the  Shipbuilding  Manual 
lent  him  from  the  aft  cabin,  or  in  the  study  of  his  models. 

They  were  in  the  south-east  monsoon  for  five  weeks.  From 
Slate  Island  to  the  Equator  not  a  wind  climbed  into  the  rig- 
ging to  change  the  sails.  Then  came  a  slight  squall,  the 
wind  veered  round  to  the  north-east,  and  for  weeks  more,  until 
they  reached  Western  Island,  there  was  no  work  on  the  sails. 

Such  Saturday  afternoons  as  they  had! 

Everyone  knows  what  Saturday  afternoons  on  a  first-class 
Hamburg  sailing-ship  are  like;  but  there  were  never  such 
delightful  ones  on  any  ship  as  on  board  the  Gude  Wife  on  this 
voyage.  They  all  sat  on  deck  to  the  leeward  side  —  one  patch- 
ing, another  washing,  a  third  darning,  a  fourth  reading,  a 
fifth  whistling,  and  a  sixth  talking  to  anyone  who  would 
listen. 

William  Baldermann  sat  with  his  back  to  the  water-cask 
mending  the  lining  of  his  mess-jacket.  He  really  deserved 
a  new  one,  but  he  wanted  to  save.  He  had  not  been  very 
successful  in  doing  it  so  far,  but  now  he  was  really  going  to 
save.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  had  hardly  been  worth  while 
before.  What  is  five  pounds,  or  even  ten  ?  You  can't  begin  to 
save  so  little  as  that.  Three  days  ashore,  and  it  has  all  slipped 


HOLYLAND  121 

through  your  fingers  —  gone  for  ever.  This  time,  however, 
it  was  worth  while.  In  Apia  he  had  mercifully  been  ill,  and 
stayed  on  board,  and  now  he  had  twenty-five  pounds  in  the 
old  'un's  box.  Twenty-five  pounds!  That  would  be  some- 
thing like,  going  home  with  that.  First  to  Gliickstadt,  to 
the  old  people,  and  throw  fifteen  pounds  on  the  table.  "  For 
your  old  age."  Then  to  Altona,  to  the  navigation  school. 
High  time  for  that,  he  was  twenty-eight.  That  was  why  he 
was  darning  away  at  his  coat,  and  smiling  happily  to  himself. 

He  did  not  carry  out  this  plan.  As  soon  as  he  got  to  Cux- 
haven  he  fell  into  the  land  shark's  hands.  They  passed  off 
two  watches  upon  him  —  one  for  each  waistcoat  pocket  —  the 
very  newest  thing;  and  the  next  day  there  he  was  in  a  box 
in  the  music-hall  at  St.  Pauli  with  a  bedizened  female  on 
either  side.  On  the  ninth  day  he  slunk  away  from  Hamburg 
on  board  an  English  vessel. 

Heine  Marquard  had  brought  his  workbox  on  deck,  and, 
after  soaping  it  over,  was  now  standing  upon  it  with  legs  wide 
apart,  working  away  with  his  broom,  thinking,  as  he  laughed 
to  himself,  "  Mother  ought  to  see  me  now,  and  my  lieutenant 
brother;"  and  with  that  his  home  went  out  of  his  head,  and 
he  began  to  wave  his  broom  in  time  to  an  air  he  was  whis- 
tling. 

Jacob  Simsen  and  Otto  Fink  sat  back  to  back.  Jacob  was 
carving  a  panel  with  a  Latin  inscription  to  the  effect  that  one 
must  wander  far  and  wide,  to  distant  countries,  over  the  wide 
sea,  although  one  might  meet  death  on  the  way.  Otto  was 
darning.  They  were  the  same  age  —  about  twenty  —  that  is, 
in  the  fulness  of  their  youthful  prime;  but  their  faces  were 
very  unlike.  Jacob  had  grown  up  in  the  kindly  atmosphere 
of  a  parsonage,  among  brothers  and  sisters  now  scattered 
throughout  Holstein  in  parsonages  of  their  own;  he  was  a 
constant  reader  of  the  Bible  and  his  great  friend  was  Torril 
Torrilsen,  although  the  good  old  man  was  thirty  years  his 
senior.  The  carving  was  for  his  mother,  and  as  he  worked  at 
it  he  thought  of  those  roguish  brothers  of  his  and  the  little 
sister,  who  will  marry,  one  day,  and  have  children,  with  a 
gentle,  kindly  expression  on  his  face. 

Otto  Fink  scowled  at  the  world.  He  was  the  son  of  a 
rich  farmer  in  Ditmarsh.  One  morning,  when  he  was  seven- 
teen, he  and  the  farm  boy  were  ploughing  over  a  wet  ditch 


122  HOLYLAND 

with  four  horses  when  suddenly  the  off-horse  slipped  and 
pulled  the  one  behind  down  with  him.  The  boy  and  all'  four 
horses  lay  in  the  ditch. 

His  father,  standing  at  the  door  with  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  saw  it  all,  and  came  up  just  as  the  boy  and  two  horses 
had  been  safely  extricated.  Although  he  saw  how  steep  and 
slippery  the  place  was,  he  flew  out  against  the  boy  in  uncon- 
trolled rage.  "  You're  a  good-for-nothing.  .  .  .  Get  out  of 
my  sight,  and  never  let  me  set  eyes  on  you  again.  It's  the 
best  thing  you  can  do.  Tell  me  when  you  want  to  go  and  how 
much  money  you  want  with  you.  I  don't  care  about  anything 
so  long  as  you  go."  And  with  these  words  he  turned  and 
went. 

The  boy  put  everything  to  rights  and  ploughed  till  mid- 
day. Then  he  went  to  his  father,  his  face  hard  and  set,  and 
said,  "  Give  me  the  money." 

His  father,  his  face  as  hard  as  his  son's,  threw  a  fifty  pound 
note  on  the  table  without  a  word.  The  boy  went  to  his  sister's 
room  and  got  her  to  make  him  a  purse  of  white  linen,  on  a 
stout  cord.  He  put  the  money  in  it  and  hung  it  round  his 
neck,  next  to  his  bare  chest.  Then  he  left  the  house  and  went 
to  his  aunt,  who  lived  an  hour's  ride  away,  and  stayed  eight 
days  with  her.  Every  evening  for  eight  days  his  eyes  rested 
at  curfew  on  his  father's  big,  beautiful  farm,  and  every  evening 
at  the  same  time  his  father  stood  in  front  of  the  farm  and 
looked  across  to  him.  They  saw  each  other  standing  thus,  and 
each  knew  how  the  other's  heart  yearned ;  but  pride  would 
not  yield  —  the  pride  of  seventeen  no  more  than  that  of  fifty. 
And  no  one  else  could  reach  those  hard  hearts  —  mother, 
sister,  clergyman,  or  friends.  They  knew  that  every  word 
only  hardened  them  the  more.  On  the  eighth  day  he  went  to 
Hamburg  and  joined  the  Gude  Wife.  And  now  he  sat  back 
to  back  with  Jacob  Simsen  —  the  one  carving  at  his  cheerless 
Latin  with  happy  thoughts  of  his  dear  home,  the  other  living 
again,  with  darkened  face,  the  dark  episode  of  his  departure. 

Two  years  later  Jacob  died  of  malaria,  on  board  ship,  near 
the  Gold  Coast.  Torril  Torrilsen  prayed  with  him,  and  spoke 
the  Lord's  Prayer  over  him,  slowly,  as  he  lay  on  the  rail. 
Every  day  his  father  and  his  mother  look  up  at  the  carving. 
It  came  home  safely,  and  hangs  now  over  the  sofa. 

Soon  afterwards  Otto  Fink  left  the  Gude  Wife  at  a  South 


HOLYLAND  123 

American  port.  Nothing  was  heard  of  him.  He  never  wrote. 
Twenty-five  years  later,  a  year  after  the  death  of  his  father, 
he  suddenly  appeared  in  his  native  place,  a  cold,  handsome 
man,  the  image  of  his  father,  unmarried,  captain  on  a  large 
steamer  sailing  between  San  Francisco  and  Yokohama.  He 
visited  the  aunt  who  had  befriended  him  and  made  some  short 
excursions  in  the  neighbourhood,  drinking  a  glass  of  wine  with 
a  few  old  acquaintances,  but  communicating  little  of  his  present 
life.  To  his  younger  brother  he  spoke  like  a  stranger.  His 
sister  was  dead.  He  remained  eight  days  without  going  to 
his  father's  farm  or  visiting  his  father's  grave.  In  his  stern 
face  and  rigid  bearing  anger  still  seemed  to  smoulder,  and  no 
one  touched  his  heart.  And  all  from  one  angry  word  — 
"  Never  let  me  see  your  face  again !  " 

Pete  Boje  stitched  a  loose  button  on  to  his  best  suit.  He 
was  not  really  fussy,  but  everything  in  his  kit  was  clean  and 
tidy. 

Kai  Jans  sat  in  a  heap,  his  wounded,  bandaged  hand  resting 
on  his  head  —  it  did  not  burn  and  throb  so  much  when  he 
held  it  up  —  reading  Caesar  and  consulting  the  grammar  alter- 
nately. Hinnerk  Lornsen,  sitting  by  his  side,  was  telling  the 
sailmaker  his  favourite  story  of  how  the  pilot's  fair-haired 
daughter,  fourteen  years  old,  had  sailed  about  with  him  in 
his  canoe  on  the  river  at  Aberdovev  in  Wales,  and  taught  him 
to  speak  English  and  to  kiss.  That  was  a  long  time  ago. 
Now  he  was  forty,  and  father  of  five  children.  In  the  middle 
sat  Hans  Jessen,  flat  on  the  deck,  with  a  volume  of  the  Boy's 
Own  on  his  knees  that  the  kind  neighbour  at  home  had  given 
him  —  kind  to  him,  although  she  had  eight  children  of  her 
own.  Idly  turning  over  the  leaves,  he  cried  out,  "  Look  here, 
here's  the  crew  of  the  expedition  to  the  North  Pole!  '  Two 
or  three  were  at  his  shoulder  on  the  instant.  Heine  Mar- 
quard,  who,  having  sat  sulky  and  dumb  on  the  bench  at  school, 
was  now  glad  of  any  opportunity  of  showing  off  his  learning, 
leant  over  him,  and  good  old  Torril  Torrilsen,  who  was  sitting 
by  his  side  mending  Kai  Jans'  jacket  with  grey  wool  of  the 
thickness  of  your  little  finger,  leant  over  too,  and,  putting  his 
rough-worn  brown  forefinger  under  the  picture,  said,  "Look; 
there's  my  name."  They  all  looked  at  the  picture  and  recog- 
nized him.  Even  Kai  Jans  lifted  up  his  eyes  to  look,  and 
then  gazed,  dreaming,  across  the  sea  into  the  dim  darkness. 


124  HOLYLAND 

Afterwards,  as  evening  came  on,  they  sang  old  songs.  Who- 
ever shared  these  Saturday  evenings  on  the  Gude  Wtfe  has 
never  forgotten  them. 

It  was  a  lovely,  clear  September  evening,  a  hundred  and 
fifty  days  after  the  Gude  Wife  and  her  children  had  raised 
anchor  in  the  harbour  of  Apia.  They  all  stood  on  deck,  look- 
ing out,  waiting.  The  sun  went  down,  twilight  came  on, 
still  no  fire.  So  they  went  below,  for  the  air  was  chill.  They 
had  hardly  got  down  —  William  Baldermann,  always  the  last, 
was  actually  still  in  the  doorway  —  when  out  sang  the  cheer- 
ful voice  of  Jacob  Simsen,  the  look-out,  "Light  ahoy!" 

They  all  rushed  on  deck,  on  top  of  the  forecastle,  and 
stared  across  the  twilit  sea.  There  in  the  distance  was  the 
Lizard  light,  glaring  down  from  the  cliffs  over  the  grey  waste 
of  waters  with  its  wild-beast  eyes. 

"  Think,  only  think,  man.  What  shall  we  do  when  we 
first  get  to  Hamburg?" 

"  What  will  mother  say?    Think  of  that!  " 

"  Pete,  do  you  know  I  haven't  been  home  for  two  years." 

"  I  haven't  been  home  for  four!  "  said  Pete.  Looking  round 
with  sparkling  eyes,  he  found  no  Kai  Jans  among  the  others. 
He  went  down  below  and  found  him  crouching  in  the  darkest 
corner  on  Torrilsen's  locker  with  his  bandaged  hand  resting 
on  his  knee.  He  stopped  at  the  door  and  said  rather  hesitat- 
ingly, "  Be  glad !  " 

"  What  for?  "  said  Kai  in  an  expressionless  voice. 

Pete  went  up  again. 

The  next  day  the  English  coast  slowly  came  in  sight.  In 
two  days  more  they  had  come  through  the  Channel.  On  the 
evening  of  the  fourth  day  they  passed  the  first  Elbe  lightship. 
By  the  fifth  they  were  being  hauled  in,  and  there  was  no  get- 
ting them  away  from  the  forecastle.  Mate  Lau  might  harangue 
them  sapiently,  but  it  was  no  use. 

Hans  Jessen  kept  coming  up  to  Pete.  "  Look !  look !  there's 
Neufeldt.  Look!  look  there!  I  say,  man,  isn't  it  first-rate?" 

Pete  listened,  seeing  in  his  mind's  eye  the  Hilligenlei  tower 
and  the  low  room  where  his  mother  — 

Up  came  mate  Lau.  "  What  are  your  plans?  "  he  said.  "  I 
mean,  for  the  rest  of  your  life  —  always  a  sailor?" 


HOLYLAND  125 

Pete  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  If  it  was  like  the  old  days, 
when  the  ship  was  your  own,  or  a  bit  of  it!  " 

"  Yes,  if!"  replied  Pe  Ontjes.  "  If!  Now  it's  a  confound- 
edly poor  affair.  You're  only  an  official,  and  on  the  water  at 
that.  It's  all  right  while  one's  young.  But  afterwards  —  " 

"Yes!"  said  Pete,  deep  in  thought;  and,  looking  into  the 
future,  he  seemed  to  see  his  life's  course  dimly  stretching  out 
before  him,  as  one  sees  the  harbour  stream  through  the  morning 
mists.  "  Since  I  went  to  sea  I've  been  more  interested  in  the 
ship  itself  than  in  sailing.  It's  the  construction  and  the  way 
it  goes  under  the  sails  that  interests  me  so  tremendously.  And 
the  old  man  on  the  Clara,  he  made  me  feel  it  all  a  great  deal 
more.  I  don't  know,  but  if  a  man  devotes  himself,  heart  and 
soul,  to  a  thing  from  his  youth  up,  and  at  the  end  really  knows 
it,  he  must  be  fit  for  something;  he  must  be  really  worth 
something;  and  the  grander,  the  more  important  the  thing  is 
in  itself.  .  .  .  Yes,  yes;  that's  what  I  think.  I  don't  know 
any  more." 

The  mate  nodded  slowly  several  times.  "  Yes ;  there  is  a 
good  deal  in  that,"  he  nodded  again,  and  waved  his  hand  in  the 
air,  "  nose  in  air,  eyes  wide  open,  there  is  a  great  deal  in  that. 
Dock  inspector,  or  something  like  that?  Upwards,  always 
upwards!  " 

"  And  you  ?  "  said  Pete,  politely. 

"I?  Well,  I  will  tell  you  something,  only  don't  talk  about 
it  to  the  others.  I  shall  stick  to  the  Gude  Wife  for  three  or 
four  years,  and  then  I  shall  see  if  I  can't  fix  myself  up  on 
shore." 

"  In  Hamburg?  " 

"No;    in  Hilligenlei." 

"In  Hilligenlei?"  said  Pete  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes ;  my  dad  has  a  plan  which  he  is  beginning  to  put  into 
execution  —  a  corn  exchange  on  a  small  scale,  to  deal  in  maize 
and  barley  with  the  Hamburg  smacks.  There's  nothing  to  be 
done  in  Hilligenlei;  it's  dead  alive;  but  the  neighbourhood 
is  good,  the  country  folk  —  Anyhow,  I'm  not  going  to  Hilli- 
genlei this  time.  But  go  to  my  dad,  will  you,  and  give  him 
my  love,  and  regards  to  your  mother  and  sister." 

"  I  thought,"  said  Pete,  "  you  were  coming  to  see  what 
became  of  Kai  Jans." 

"  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  it,  I  can  tell  you,  but 


126  HOLYLAND 

nothing  has  come  of  it  except  writing  a  very  long  letter  to  old 
Wedderkop.  Do  you  know  him?  He  is  the  one  creature  in 
the  place  with  a  soul  above  the  commonplace.  Go  and  see  the 
old  boy,  and  tell  him  what  a  fine  fellow  Kai  is.  You  know 
him  as  well  as  I  do.  No  good  as  a  sailor,  quite  apart  from  his 
useless  hand.  If  he  doesn't  know  of  anything  else  he  might  get 
him  into  some  business  in  Hamburg." 

As  the  sun  was  sinking  next  day  they  were  just  about  to 
sit  down  to  supper  in  the  little,  low  house.  The  mother  was 
still  at  the  machine,  but  Heinke  and  Hett  were  playing  im- 
patiently with  the  cups.  Then  a  quick  step  came  along  —  a 
quick,  uneven  step  —  that  stopped  under  their  window. 

Their  breath  stood  still.  Oh!  how  happy  they  were!  how 
happy  they  were!  How  his  mother  stroked  him!  Heinke 
and  Hett  began  to  cry  aloud  when  they  saw  it.  They  had 
never  seen  a  big  man  stroked  before. 

Then  what  a  wondering. 

"How  tall  you've  got." 

"Not  tall,  mother;  broad!" 

"  I  say,  Anna,  what  a  huge  girl  you've  grown." 

"  I'm  as  tall  as  you  are,"  said  she. 

"  And  I'm  nearly  as  tall,"  said  Heinke,  "  though  I'm  only 
twelve !  " 

"  I  seem  to  be  the  littlest,  then,"  he  laughed. 

"  But  who  is  the  stupidest?  " 

"  Oh!  "  said  she;  "  we  shall  see  in  time.  We  haven't  fallen 
on  our  heads  yet !  " 

He  looked  round  and  rejoiced  —  all  tall,  all  fair-haired,  all 
with  proud,  grey  eyes.  Then  what  questions!  He  put  fifteen 
pounds  on  the  table.  "  Mother  has  paid  off  ten  pounds,"  said 
Heinke.  "  The  work's  far  too  hard." 

He  sat  down  by  the  machine  to  see  how  it  was  made,  and 
scolded  his  mother,  who  stood  by  him,  her  laughing  eyes  full 
of  tears. 

"  How  did  Lau  treat  you?  " 

He  praised  him.  "A  bit  proud !  but  we're  that,  too ;  but 
a  fine  sailor,  and  just.  He  sent  regards  to  you  —  you  too, 
Anna." 

She  threw  back  her  fair  head  without  saying  anything. 

Heinke  stood,  a  question  trembling  on  her  red  young  lips. 


HOLYLAND  127 

"  Do  you  know,  I  have  read  all  the  letters  that  Kai  Jans 
sent  home,  and  I've  always  sent  my  love  to  him,  and  he  his  to 
me." 

"  Yes,  I  know.     His  hand  isn't  better  yet." 

"Oh!  not  yet?     May  I  go  now,  mother?" 

She  flew  down  the  harbour  street,  up  the  side  of  the  dyke, 
and  went  in.  There  sat  the  tall,  brown  youth  with  his  band- 
aged hand,  at  the  table,  his  father  and  mother  with  him.  All 
three  faces  were  oppressed  and  sad.  They  were  as  far  again 
from  each  other  as  they  had  been  four  years  ago.  She  stood  in 
awkward  embarrassment  at  the  door,  looking  at  him  and  think- 
ing, "  How  thin  and  ugly  he  is."  She  had  only  seen  him  once, 
four  years  ago,  when  he  went  away  with  Pete,  and  had  thought 
him  handsome. 

"  Look,"  said  Mala  Jans,  lifting  up  her  head.  "  There  is 
Heinke  Boje.  She  thinks  a  great  deal  of  you." 

She  stepped  up  to  the  table,  holding  away  her  arm.  "  I  am 
glad  to  see  you,"  she  said,  in  a  friendly  tone.  "  Does  your 
hand  hurt?  " 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No,  not  now."  Then,  reaching  to  the 
window-sill,  "  Look,  I  have  brought  you  a  little  basket  from 
Samoa."  Knowing  that  the  Bojes  had  to  be  treated  circum- 
spectly, he  added,  "  I  bought  it  on  purpose  for  you." 

'  That  was  very  nice  of  you,"  she  said,  slowly  and  distinctly, 
looking  happily  down  at  the  basket.  "  What  are  you  going  to 
do  now  ?  " 

"  Oh!  if  I  knew!  "  said  he,  despondently,  looking  nervously 
at  his  silent  parents. 

"  I  did  not  tell  you,"  said  his  mother,  "  that  Kassen  Wedder- 
kop  had  read  all  your  letters.  He  said  Pe  Ontjes  had  written 
to  him.  Perhaps  he  may  know  of  something  for  you." 

The  door  op.ened,  and  Kassen  Wedderkop  came  in.  Decid- 
edly, he  was  too  tall  and  too  broad  for  the  low  room  with  its 
two  tiny  windows.  His  groaning  and  his  voice  were  much  too 
loud  for  so  smaira  space  and  three  such  shy  auditors. 

"  Oh,  ho;  there  he  is,"  said  he.  "  Well,  how's  the  hand?  " 
Taking  hold  of  his  arm,  he  led  him  into  the  declining  light  to 
look  at  him.  The  refined,  intelligent  eyes,  the  wide,  proudly- 
cut  mouth,  pleased  him  as  much  now  as  they  had  done  four  years 
ago  in  Heine  Wulk's  office.  "  How's  the  Latin  grammar  get- 
ting on  ?  and  Caesar  ?  The  people  in  Korea  were  all  deaf,  that's 


128  HOLYLAND 

why  I  speak  so  loud.  Well,  to  go  to  the  point  at  once,  if  you 
like  you  can  go  to  your  books.  The  old  manager  is  dead,  and 
there  are  two  or  three  young  teachers  who  are  glad  of  anything 
out  of  the  way."  He  gave  a  deep  groan,  feeling  his  back. 
"  One  thing  only  I  ask  of  you.  Later,  when  you  are  a  man, 
you  are  to  be  inspired  by  my  great  idea  —  that  is,  that  the 
peoples  round  about  the  North  Sea,  they  are  of  one  race,  of 
one  faith  —  they  all  have  the  lion  as  their  coat  of  arms.  They 
are  to  join  together,  offensive  and  defensive  alliance  —  and 
even  if  it  is  fifty  years  before  it  happens,  and  wars  come  be- 
tween, you  are  to  believe  in  it !  " 

"  That  I  will,"  said  Kai,  his  emaciated  face  glowing  with 
joy  and  goodness.  "  All  peoples  should  be  one." 

When  their  first  joy  was  abated  Thomas  Jans  remarked, 
with  that  expression  of  shy  shrewdness,  touched  with  roguish- 
ness,  which  often  came  into  his  eyes,  especially  when  talking 
with  so-called  educated  folk,  "Yes!"  he  said,  "yes!  He  has 
seen  so  much  —  America,  Africa,  China.  He  has  been  right 
round  the  world.  But  he  hasn't  found  Hilligenlei,  the  Holy- 
land,  yet!" 

Kassen  Wedderkop  laughed  with  some  embarrassment. 

"  No?     Where  is  it  to  be  found?  " 

"Where,  indeed?"  said  Thomas.  "I  believe"  —  his  eyes 
were  full  of  roguery  —  "I  believe  it  doesn't  exist  yet;  it  Is 
somewhere  in  the  future !  " 

He  was  thinking  of  the  Utopia  of  the  Labour  Party.  That 
seemed  the  Holyland  to  him.  And  he  thought,  "  Now  he  will 
be  a  learned  man,  and  he  will  help  us  to  reach  it ;  "  but  he  did 
not  dare  to  say  so  before  his  son,  or  before  the  educated  man. 

His  little  mother  leant  against  him,  saying  softly,  with  beam- 
ing eyes,  "  Kai,  shall  you  go  to  school  "in  your  mess-jacket?  " 

But  he  heard  nothing  that  they  said.  He  stood  in  wonder 
and  astonishment  at  the  entrance  to  a  new  life.  He  saw  him- 
self wandering  along  it  —  wandering,  wandering  —  thinking 
at  every  turning  in  the  road,  at  every  rising  in  the  ground, 
"  The  Holyland  is  coming  —  here  it  is." 


CHAPTER  XI. 

A  YEAR  after  his  return  Kai  Jans,  able-bodied  seaman,  now 
twenty  years  of  age,  went  to  the  grammar  school  with  a  blue 
cap  on  —  no  trifle  that.  Think  of  Torril  Torrilsen,  who  never 
took  up  a  book  or  paper  of  any  kind  except  the  old  hymn  book 
with  the  Bible  picture  in  front.  Think  of  Heine  Marquard, 
who  said  that  if  he  were  king  he  would  see  that  everybody, 
instead  of  going  to  the  grammar  school,  went  to  sea,  fore  or 
aft  cabin,  according  to  his  worth.  And  now  he  sat  among 
people  who  would  spend  half  an  hour  over  a  Latin  sentence, 
among  teachers,  one  of  whom  said  that  Horace  was  the  wisest 
man  that  ever  lived  in  the  world,  while  another  regarded  the 
binomial  theorem  as  the  key  to  all  wisdom.  Most  assuredly, 
he  had  got  into  a  different  world.  Instead  of  the  fresh  breeze 
blowing  over  the  wide,  boundless  sea,  he  had  a  funny  little  low 
room,  with  heaps  of  books  and  very  small  windows. 

The  greatest  hardship  was  the  old  one.  The  trouble  he  had 
had  as  a  child,  had  never  lost  while  at  sea,  was  with  him 
still,  more  acute  than  ever,  among  these  sharp,  learned  people. 
The  expression  of  his  deepest  thoughts,  thoughts  that  seemed 
to  him  natural  and  even  obvious,  used  to  rouse  wonder  and 
ridicule  in  others.  Had  he  known  that  what  he  said  was  as- 
tonishing he  would  have  kept  silent,  but  he  only  discovered  it 
to  be  so  from  the  scorn  and  astonishment  in  their  faces. 

There  was  a  school  ball,  to  which  he  went,  for  he  was  fond 
of  dancing  in  the  genial  sailor's  way.  He  liked  dancing  with 
Anna  Boje  best.  She  was  just  his  age ;  both  were  twenty.  He 
talked  to  her  about  Pete,  now  at  the  navigation  school,  and  they 
got  on  well  together  in  a  straight-forward,  friendly  way.  If 
he  did  say  anything  extraordinary  he  knew  that  Anna  would 
not  repeat  it.  The  Bojes  stood  by  him,  and  never  allowed 
anyone  they  cared  for  to  be  laughed  at. 

Afterwards,  however,  he  danced  with  the  daughter  of  one 
of  the  masters.  He  jestingly  compared  Ringerang's  hall,  where 

129 


130  HOLYLAND 

they  were,  to  the  Hamburg  harbour,  making  those  stout  old 
beer-drinkers  into  the  quay  with  the  dredgers;  the  seven  portly 
elderly  dames  into  the  four-masted  full-rigged  vessels  in  the 
sailing-dock;  and  the  doctor's  two  malicious  little  daughters 
into  the  tugs.  She  held  her  fan  in  front  of  her  smiling  face. 
'  Now,"  said  he,  "  let's  cut  across  the  harbour.  Take  care. 
We  almost  grazed  that  coalship  —  great  black  thing  she  is. 
Look!  there's  Anna  Boje  sailing  past,  the  proud  Gude  Wife. 
Now  we  cast  anchor." 

The  pretty  creature  soon  spread  the  report  of  what  Kai  had 
said,  and  there  was  no  end  of  talk.  His  schoolfellows  teased 
him  remorselessly.  "  You  have  hardly  a  word  to  say  for  your- 
self generally!  and  now  all  at  once  a  whole  history!  " 

The  dredgers  and  the  full-rigged  vessels  declared  he  was 
only  a  workman's  son,  and  would  be  a  common  sailor  all  his 
life.  The  director  took  him  aside  and  advised  him  to  be  more 
careful. 

The  whole  thing  was  painful  to  him.  He  resolved  firmly 
only  to  open  his  lips  when  it  was  absolutely  necessary. 

It  was  very  well  to  resolve  to  be  careful.  People  of  his 
simple,  trusting  disposition  forget  their  fine  resolutions;  a  time 
comes  when  the  over-full  heart  pours  out,  in  the  exquisite  con- 
fusion of  immaturity,  all  the  glory  of  those  secret  dreams  which 
wait  shyly  for  their  blossoming  time. 

Jacob  Sill  was  in  the  highest  form,  and  excelled  all  his  com- 
rades in  mind  as  in  body.  Later,  as  a  student,  unbridled  li- 
cense drove  him  in  the  bloom  of  youth  into  a  desperate  grave. 
Now  his  eager  spirit,  thirsting  for  beauty  everywhere,  saw  it 
throned  in  the  dark  depths  of  Kai  Jans'  eyes.  He  sought  him 
out  and  won  his  confidence.  On  the  three  paths  on  the  foot- 
path up  the  hill,  and  along  the  tow  path  on  top,  from  which  you 
can  see  far  over  land  and  sea,  Kai  Jans  let  fly  his  beautiful  wild 
doves.  Aha!  how  beautifully  they  flew!  how  they  tumbled 
over  one  another  in  the  air  when  Truth,  that  tiresome  jay, 
swooped  down  upon  them. 

"  Don't  you  think  so?  Do  you  believe  what  he  said  about 
the  French  Revolution?  Wasn't  it  just  and  right?  When 
a  lazy,  incompetent  government  allows  the  people  to  be 
so  crushed  by  the  deadweight  of  a  ruling  class  that  it  can 
neither  stir  nor  breathe,  one  day  the  people  will  shake  off  that 
weight,  in  sheer  need  of  air.  Good  government  provides  for 


HOLYLAND  131 

interest  and  advance  in  every  class  —  for  hope  and  movement 
everywhere.  To  do  so  is  the  highest  political  wisdom.  .  .  . 
Anyhow,  one  must  not  accept  what  the  teachers  say  —  every 
preposition,  wherever  found,  even  if  it  be  in  the  Bible,  even  if 
it  be  spoken  by  the  Saviour,  must  be  examined  with  the  open 
eyes,  with  which  Adam  regarded  the  new  aspects  of  nature 
opening  before  his  gaze.  The  other  day  he  threw  down  a  state- 
ment —  there  would  always  be  war,  he  said,  always.  How 
can  anyone  say  '  always '  ?  What  do  we  know  about  always  ? 
Moltke  said  that;  he  took  it  over  from  him  without  examining 
it.  We  get  it  from  him,  to  hand  it  on  in  our  turn  without  ex- 
amination. What  does  it  matter  to  me  what  Moltke  thought? 
What  is  his  opinion  worth  to  me,  or  the  opinion  on  this  or 
any  subject  of  the  Emperor,  the  Pope,  or  the  newspapers? 
Anybody  who  simply  listens  to  other  people  has  lost  his  blue 
ribbon  and  gone  down  into  the  second  class.  Life  is  too  serious 
a  business,  too  full  of  danger  and  responsibility,  to  be  carried 
on  by  running  after  other  people. 

"  Were  you  there  the  other  day  when  I  had  forgotten  my 
Testament  and  Fritz  Petersen  lent  me  his?  He  gave  it  me, 
saying,  in  a  mock  serious  tone,  '  This  is  my  blood,  poured  out 
for  you.'  I  looked  at  him.  He  has  a  beautiful,  serious  sort 
of  face,  and  I  was  astonished  at  such  a  jest  on  his  lips.  If  you 
pass  a  nice  girl  you  don't  take  her  and  push  her  into  the 
gutter.  You  respect  a  brave  man  when  you  meet  one.  But 
do  you  know  why  it  is?  The  reason  is,  the  church  doesn't 
represent  the  Saviour  humanly.  They  have  made  a  golden  im- 
age of  Him  with  dead,  speechless  eyes  —  an  old,  dead  image, 
and  that  I  throw  into  the  gutter.  Awray  with  it.  Fritz  Peter- 
sen  would  never  mock  at  Frederick  the  Great  or  Bismarck  or 
a  nice-minded  girl  —  never ;  but  he  mocks  at  the  Saviour." 

The  German  master  was  a  clever,  conscientious  teacher.  He 
set  an  essay  on  "  If  I  rest,  I  rust."  A  few  days  later  the  essays 
were  given  back  without  his  saying  a  word  about  Kai  Jans', 
although  at  the  end  he  wrote  "  A  good  essay."  Kai,  suspecting 
something  beneath  this  brief  comment,  asked  the  teacher.  He 
replied,  "  If  you  want  to  know,  the  essay  is  good,  but  it  is  not 
your  own  work.  The  ideas  can  only  be  those  of  a  man  of  fifty." 
Kai  Jans  turned  pale  and  sat  down,  not  knowing  what  to  do. 

Towards  the  end  ol  the  hour  Jacob  Sill  stood  up  suddenly 
and  said,  "May  I  say  something,  sir?  I  am  convinced  that 


132  HOLYLAND 

we  are  all  aware  that  Kai  Jans  has  naturally  the  thoughts  and 
the  knowledge  that  other  men  only  acquire  in  the  course  of  long 
experience." 

The  teacher  looked  at  him  with  astonishment,  and  after  some 
thought  said,  simply,  "  In  that  case  I  take  back  what  I  said." 
But  he  was  not  convinced,  and  continued  cold  towards  Kai. 

Jacob  Sill  had  promised  not  to  reveal  a  word  of  their  con- 
versations on  the  tow  path,  but  in  a  weak  moment  he  talked, 
and  taunts  and  scoffing  looks  revived.  Teachers,  too,  scoffed. 
From  that  time  he  became  more  circumspect,  only  talking  with 
his  schoolfellows  about  things  connected  with  the  lesson,  or 
things  they  saw  around  them.  But  all  the  time  his  spirit  was 
working  its  way,  pained  and  astonished,  through  the  brambles 
of  opinion,  gazing  about  it  with  the  eyes  of  which  he  had  spoken 
to  Jacob. 

Oh!  that  it  were  possible  for  these  proud,  lonely  spirits  to 
find  someone  to  help  and  admonish  them  in  the  awful  brood- 
ings,  the  wild,  fanatic  dreams  of  youth.  But  if  they  found 
him  they  would  not  listen.  In  their  youth  they  listen  not  — 
not  to  the  Saviour,  not  to  Goethe.  They  will  —  they  must  — 
make  their  way  alone  through  the  fearsome  lovelinesses  of  that 
ruddy,  fairy  forest  beyond  which  is  the  Holyland.  And  if  Kai 
Jans  was  alone,  unguided,  because  he  would  accept  no  guidance, 
in  the  depths  of  his  inner  life,  he  had  good  instruction  in  all 
the  knowledge  and  wisdom  of  the  world.  Yes,  indeed ;  yes, 
he  learnt  to  know  the  variety  of  human  life  and  the  strangeness 
of  the  human  heart. 

Every  afternoon,  as  soon  as  he  got  out  of  school,  he  went 
straight  to  Kassen  Wedderkop  and  sat  opposite  him  at  the  din- 
ner table.  First  over  the  meal,  and  afterwards  over  the  news- 
paper, Kassen  talked  away,  groaning  at  intervals,  in  his  Korean 
voice,  about  all  the  doings  of  the  big  world ;  and  he  talked  no 
longer  to  the  "  greenhorn,"  the  "  stupid  boy;  "  now  it  was  his 
intelligent  young  friend.  Nor  did  he  now  say  "  That's  it,  and 
everything  else  is  nonsense,"  but  "  That  happened  to  me  while 
I  was  in  a  situation  in  Berlin,"  or  "  When  I  was  in  the  office 
in  Hongkong  I  got  to  know  a  man,"  or  "  From  my  experiences 
in  East  Africa,  we  Germans  —  but  things  are  said  to  have 
changed  since  my  time;"  or  "Every  Sunday  while  I  was  in 
London  I  went  to  church  and  saw  —  "  "  Just  listen,  Kai,  to 
the  Chicago  quotations  for  corn  and  meat !  "  or  "  They  believe 


HOLYLAND  133 

in  Japan  —  I  should  very  much  like  to  know  the  opinion 
of  an  intelligent  Jap  on  our  dogmas!  Listen  to  this  article 
in  the  Times  on  Japanese  religion.  It  seems  to  me  quite  cor- 
rect— ;"  "What  a  blessing  that  you  know  English,  and 
have  four  years  at  sea  behind  you.  Even  if  you  haven't  found 
Hilligenlei,  you  donkey,  it  is  possible  to  talk  sense  to  you." 

Yes,  that  was  something  like  instruction.  He  began  to  see 
the  rush  and  ebb  of  life.  He  was  the  son  of  Thomas  Jans, 
the  labourer,  and  he  lived  in  the  long  house  at  Hilligenlei. 

In  these  years  life  got  rather  smoother  and  more  easy  there. 
The  two  elder  sisters  went  to  America  with  their  husbands  — 
the  youngest  married  a  decent  artisan.  The  youngest  boy,  u 
simple,  straightforward  fellow,  was  apprenticed  to  a  good,  hard- 
working plumber. 

There  was  a  calm,  even  cheerful  expression  in  Thomas  Jans' 
clever,  weather-beaten  face  now  that  he  had  only  his  wife  and 
himself  to  provide  for,  and  his  son  was  able  to  learn,  and  learn- 
ing so  that  his  head  swam  with  it.  He  used  to  sit  in  a  corner 
at  the  meetings  of  the  Labour  Party,  which  had  grown  so  that 
they  filled  Reimer's  big  room,  and  listen.  Occasionally  some- 
one would  make  a  thrust  at  him,  but  he  never  spoke.  They 
were  very  extreme  in  those  days.  They  all  laughed  when  the 
word  religion  was  mentioned.  When  he  came  home  he  would 
take  down  his  Bible  and  hunt  out  the  passages  that  spoke  of 
great  times  to  come,  and  he  rejoiced  and  believed.  He  did  not 
speak  of  these  matters  with  his  son. 

They  spoke  together  a  great  deal  about  human  destiny. 
After  supper,  or  after  tea  on  Sunday  afternoons,  he  would  lean 
back,  thinking  and  drumming  on  the  window-sill  with  his  fin- 
gers, as  his  habit  was;  then,  as  if  moved  by  the  sound  or  the 
action,  he  would  begin  to  talk  about  someone  whom  he  had 
met  in  the  course  of  his  life,  speaking  of  his  parents  and  grand- 
parents, of  his  character,  and  how  he  had  changed,  the  events 
which  had  influenced  his  life,  and  the  issue  of  human  life  in 
general.  Thus  Kai  heard  many  a  life  history,  and  much  quiet 
native  wisdom,  as  he  listened  with  silent  interest. 

Mala  Jans  had  grown  smaller'  since  the  day  her  son  went 
to  sea,  and  his  return  as  a  cripple.  One  could  hardly  believe 
that  this  thin,  dainty  little  slip  of  mother  had  such  a  tall  son. 
She  was  very  proud  of  her  clever,  brooding,  mocking  husband 
and  her  serious,  silent  son,  and  even  almost  satisfied,  now,  with 


134  HOLYLAND 

his  face.  From  her  girlhood  she  had  speht  Sunday  afternoon 
in  reading  the  stories  in  the  newspaper  about  beautiful  high- 
born lords  and  ladies,  who  always  addressed  each  other  politely, 
even  after  marriage,  and  whose  children  all  had  high  foreheads 
and  aristocratic  eyes  and  noses.  She  had  often  looked  secretly 
at  her  son  and  found  his  forehead  too  low,  his  nose  too  broad, 
his  eyes  too  small.  After  he  went  to  the  grammar  school, 
however,  she  asked  no  more  of  his  face,  but  rejoiced  secretly 
in  its  strength  and  the  slim  uprightness  of  his  carriage.  Their 
silver  wedding-day  came  when  he  was  in  the  upper  sixth,  and 
Thomas  bought  her  a  dress  the  first  time  since  their  marriage 

—  bought  it  by  himself  in  Slider  Street,  and  paid  ready  money 
for  it.     This  Sunday  afternoon,  while  father  and  son  discussed 
human  destiny,  she  sat  opposite  to  them  at  the  table  by  the  other 
window,  reading  about  lords  and  ladies,  in  her  new  dress. 

There  were  others  who  helped  him,  too.  Yes,  it  was  instruc- 
tion indeed  —  his.  Sometimes,  when  he  came  out  of  the  little 
blue  room  where  his  bed  and  writing-table  were,  through  the 
dark  little  kitchen  into  the  sitting-room,  he  found  Stiena  Dusen- 
schon  with  his  mother.  His  mother  was  a  proud  and  clever 
little  woman,  who  mingled  sympathy  with  her  friendly  amuse- 
ment at  Stiena's  vague  inconsequence.  She  now  complained  of 
Rieke  Thomson.  There  was  no  being  on  good  terms  with  her 

—  and  this  although  she  and  Rieke  used  to  drink  seven  cups  of 
tea  together  every  day;  and  as  for  Tjark  —  Tjark  never  came 
to  Hilligenlei  to  see  her,  and  would  not  let  her  go  to  Hamburg 
to  see  him;  but  he  did  write  sometimes,  and  at  Christmas  he 
had  sent  her  a  piece  of  money  and  a  beautiful  black  skirt,  silk 
one  way,  and  had  written  she  was  not  to  spend  her  whole  life 
darning  other  people's  stockings.     He  would  do  something  for 
her  some  day.     "  Now  he  is  head  assistant,  with  five  people 
under  him.     Tjark  —  yes,  he  will  get  on."     She  talked  away, 
her  knitting  needles  clicking  the  while,  and  her  bonnet  strings 
and  the  fringe  on  her  mantle  dancing  to  some  sweet  far-away 
melody. 

Sometimes,  when  he  was  jumping  over  the  fence  to  go  out  to 
the  sea  wall  for  the  fresh  air,  Rieke  Thomson  would  throw 
open  her  window  and  talk  away.  "  Well,  old  Lau  has  bought 
a  second  smack,  and  he  is  really  bringing  maize  and  barley  from 
Hamburg  to  sell  to  the  farmers.  Pe  Ontjes  is  going  to  give 
up  the  sea,  and  then  they  will  increase  the  business.  It  will  be 


HOLYLAND  135 

a  grand  concern.  The  old  man  can't  write,  and  Pe  Ontjes  is 
a  stiff  creature.  Have  you  heard?  Stiena  says  Tjark  has 
twenty  clerks  under  him.  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  He 
will  come  to  no  good  —  I've  always  said  so.  Jeff  Buhmann  is 
the  only  creature  who  believes  in  him.  By  the  bye,  have  you 
heard  a  sound  or  even  a  spark  come  out  of  the  smithy  this  last 
month  ?  He  squats  all  day  in  the  meadow,  frightening  the  fish 
with  his  great  leather  apron.  Tell  your  mother  to  come  and 
see  me.  I'm  a  poor,  deserted  old  female.  Look!  there's  Triena 
Soht.  Her  mouth  is  always  full  of  gossip.  Do  you  see?  She's 
got  her  pipe  in  the  front  of  her  dress.  I  have  to  stand  her 
tobacco!  " 

"  Indeed !  "  said  he.     "  I  am  just  going  along  the  wall." 

"  It's  all  very  well,  your  learning  and  learning,"  she  con- 
tinued. "  You'll  never  make  up  the  four  years  you  wasted  at 
sea.  Your  parents  spoil  you,  Kai.  You  may  be  very  glad  if 
you  get  through  the  school.  I  have  always  said  so." 

Sometimes,  when  he  came  out  of  school  in  the  afternoons, 
he  went  through  the  chestnut  avenue.  If  he  saw  Anna's  fair 
head  at  the  window  he  went  in  and  spoke  to  her  mother,  sit- 
ting at  the  machine,  then  sat  down  opposite  Anna,  playing  with 
her  reels  and  scissors,  and  talking  in  a  sensible,  manly  way 
while  he  gazed  at  her.  She  answered  composedly,  looking  at 
him  with  complete  indifference  in  her  clear  eyes,  then  out  of 
the  window,  as  if  expecting  something  pleasant  to  pass  by. 

Ever  since  passing  her  twentieth  birthday  she  had  felt  a 
secret,  uneasy  astonishment  that  no  one  came  and  desired  her 
love,  and  her  uneasiness  grew.  He  saw  nothing.  To  him  she 
was  what  she  seemed  —  all  beautiful,  calm  peace.  Nor  did 
he  see  that  little  Heinke,  sitting  at  the  table  with  her  lessons, 
would  often  raise  her  head  and  fix  her  clear,  grey,  child's  eyes 
upon  him,  seeking  him  as  the  carrier  bird  seeks  its  goal. 

When  he  was  in  the  upper  sixth  he  founded  a  club  called 
"  Truth."  As  the  oldest  and  most  experienced,  he  soon  be- 
came president.  Naturally,  they  chose  for  discussion  the  most 
difficult  subjects  in  the  world,  with  which  they  were  least  fitted 
to  cope  —  religion,  politics,  character  —  handling  them  from 
a  lofty  and  enthusiastic  point  of  view  as  radicals  competent  to 
pronounce  judgment.  Occasionally,  indeed,  being,  after  all, 
thoughtful,  genuine  young  fellows,  the  judgments  they  passed 
disturbed  their  consciences.  This  was  most  olf  all  the  case  with 


136  HOLYLAND 

Kai  Jans,  and  he  used  to  express  his  doubts  and  go  into  the 
question  again  with  rather  more  reverence.  Still,  in  this  last 
year  he  certainly  became  a  trifle  arrogant.  He  forgot  what  he 
had  seen  so  clearly  four  years  ago,  that  Torril  Torrilsen,  with 
his  big,  knotted  hands  —  Torril,  who  could  not  write,  and 
whose  only  reading  was  the  Trondhjem  hymn  books  and  the 
Bible  —  was  a  far  wiser,  a  far  more  worthy  man  than  any  of 
the  teachers.  He  forgot  that  altogether.  His  knowledge  and 
his  talents  made  him  arrogant.  His  voice  used  to  ring  out  at 
the  club  loud  and  clear  as  a  victorious  blast.  "  Behold,  I  know 
Hilligenlei,  the  Holyland.  I,  Kai  Jans!  I  shall  find  the  mean- 
ing of  the  world."  In  his  eyes  it  shone.  "  Wait  and  see  what 
Kai  Jans  will  become!" 

He  said  to  his  mother  with  an  air  of  great  wisdom,  "  I  don't 
like  father's  going  to  the  workmen's  meetings,  and,  mother, 
what  about  his  reading  the  Bible?  No  one  can  understand  the 
Bible  without  a  long,  special  training.  His  reading  is  simply 
absurd." 

Mala  Jans  bit  her  lips  in  silence,  deeply  pained.  She  looked 
at  him  almost  with  hatred  in  her  eyes,  and  said  with  an  assur- 
ance very  unusual  with  her,  "  Leave  him  alone,  I  tell  you. 
Don't  speak  of  that  to  him." 

His  arrogance  did  not  last  more  than  a  year.  With  the 
spring  came  reflection.  His  sharpness  gave  place  to  a  gentler 
and  more  generous  temper  as  his  dreaming  eyes  began  to  look 
beyond  the  leaving  examination  to  the  beginning  of  student 
days.  Age  did  its  share.  He  was  now  past  two-and-twenty. 
Anyhow,  a  change  of  which  he  was  unconscious  was  taking 
place  in  him. 

To  be  a  student !  to  be  free !  to  live  in  a  strange  town  — 
that  was  life,  and  life  was  the  thing!  What  was  the  use,  after 
all,  of  all  this  thinking  —  this  narrow,  petty  round?  How 
beautifully  Anna  Boje  walked! 

So  when  midsummer  eve  came  he  let  the  people  go  past  him 
to  the  bonfires  as  he  waited  in  the  dark  road  for  her  coming. 
She  came,  arm  in  arm  with  Anna  Martens,  who  was  living  at 
that  time  with  the  Bojes  in  Hilligenlei  to  learn  fine  sewing. 
She  was  a  pretty  girl,  as  tall  as  Anna,  but  dark,  and  more 
stoutly  built.  All  day  long  she  sewed  away  diligently,  laughing 
at  her  work  —  laughing  so  incessantly  that  it  affected  all  the 
other  girls  at  the  tailoress's  —  laughter  that  seemed  to  arise 


HOLYLAND  137 

without  any  cause.  In  the  evening,  however,  she  became  se- 
rious, and  would  say  to  Anna,  "  I  am  going  up  to  the  dyke  to 
gaze  across  the  bay  and  see  if  I  can  bewitch  him  to  come  across 
this  evening."  And  sometimes  she  succeeded,  for,  as  he  said, 
he  was  already  in  bed,  when  heigh  ho!  he  had  to  get  up,  jump 
on  to  his  horse,  and  gallop  round  the  bay.  He  stood  with  her 
under  the  apple  tree  in  front  of  Anna  Boje's  window,  and  Anna 
could  hear  the  sound  of  whispering  and  kisses.  Afterwards 
she  became  his  happy  wife,  and  bewitched  him  all  his  life  long. 

"  Do  you  see?  "  she  said;  "  there  is  Kai  Jans  in  the  shadow 
of  the  trees.  He  will  go  with  you,  and  I  will  turn  back."  She 
wanted  to  try  her  witchcraft  again. 

So  they  went  on  alone,  up  the  three  paths.  He  walked  by 
her  side:  or  sometimes,  when  the  path  got  narrow,  behind  her, 
feasting  his  eyes  on  the  outline  of  her  figure  dimly  visible  in 
the  gloom.  They  spoke  very  little,  for  what  was  the  use  of 
words  when  each  was  thirsting  for  action?  Moreover,  his 
youth  and  innocence  made  him  too  nervous  to  address  her. 

When  they  reached  the  summit  they  looked  about  them,  far 
and  wide.  On  every  side  they  could  see  across  the  country, 
see  the  bonfires  in  a  great  semi-circle. 

There  to  the  south-west  was  the  Friestadt  fire.  Time  was 
when  Anna  herself  had  helped  to  light  it.  With  burning  peats 
for  torches  they  had  lit  the  fire,  and  then  jumped  round  about  it. 

There  to  the  north,  across  the  marshes,  was  the  Hemme  fire, 
the  big  wooden  belfry  rising  up  big  and  black  behind  it.  Every 
year  the  parson  used  to  send  a  ton  of  fuel  and  help  to  build  up 
the  fire  with  his  own  hands. 

Far  away  in  the  west,  slightly  southwards,  there  gleamed  a 
faint  blaze,  built  by  the  shepherd,  who  lived  alone  with  his 
sheep  on  his  island  in  the  midst  of  the  grey  shadows,  built  out 
of  dried  sea-grasses  and  driftwood.  By  his  side  stood  his  bright- 
eyed  dog.  Further  off,  the  sheep  stared  stupidly  out  of  the 
darkness  into  the  glowing  blaze. 

On  midsummer  eve  countless  fires  burned  all  round  the 
town  of  Hilligenlei.  For  a  thousand  years  or  more  they  have 
burned  there,  so  that  the  night  encircles  the  town  like  a  dark 
belt  set  with  three  burning  jewels. 

One  belongs  to  the  west  quarter  —  that  burning  up  on  the 
dyke.  The  young  brigands  who  make  it  think  it  no  crime  to 
steal  for  the  bonfire,  and  it  is  none.  The  children  claim  for  the 


138  HOLYLAND 

fire  everything  that  is  neither  nailed  nor  hung  up,  everything 
that  neither  grows  out  of  the  earth  nor  is  fixed  there.  Ten 
years  ago  it  was  bigger  than  now.  When  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  was 
ringleader,  then  indeed  the  flames  rose  to  heaven,  and  the 
angels  had  to  tuck  up  their  feet !  But  it's  still  a  grand  sight. 

The  second,  belonging  to  the  north,  stands  where  the  open 
fields  extend  for  seven  miles  as  flat  as  a  table.  The  children 
could  make  a  splendid  fire  if  it  were  not  that  they  are  at  feud 
among  themselves  and  quarrel  like  cats.  They  are  a  big,  sturdy 
set.  Only  think!  There  are  six  Wittes,  seven  Suhres,  and  nine 
Hanses.  But  their  bonfire  suffers  from  their  quarrelsomeness. 
Twice  some  cankered  enemy  of  the  people  had  kindled  their 
fuel  the  night  before,  so  that  it  burned  away  while  they  slept, 
and  since  then  they  had  to  set  watchers  to  guard  the  fire,  who 
gave  summary  chastisement  to  anyone  who  drew  near,  without 
waiting  to  judge  or  identify  the  person. 

The  third  fire  was  up  on  the  heights  where  Kai  Jans  and 
Anna  Boje  stood  together.  There  on  the  height  the  grammar- 
school  boys  had  made  their  fire,  from  time  immemorial,  among 
the  barrows  of  their  Pagan  ancestors,  with  only  two  interrup- 
tions. Once,  five  hundred  years  ago,  the  Canon  had  forbidden 
it,  fearing  a  return  to  Paganism.  His  fear  was  not  wholly 
unfounded.  Thode  Witt,  a  cross-grained  old  greybeard  from 
Volkmersdorf,  a  village  just  below  the  summit,  had  put  a 
horse's  skull  into  the  fire  and  then  stared  into  the  blaze  as  if  he 
could  see  a  thousand  years  into  the  past.  Only  forty  years  ago 
it  had  been  forbidden  by  the  headmaster  and  the  mayor,  on  the 
plea  that  it  was  out  of  date  —  that  midsummer  bonfires  were 
out  of  date!  May  they  sleep  sound  in  their  graves,  those  who 
are  not  out  of  date! 

Anna  Boje  stood  at  a  little  distance  watching  the  blazing 
fire,  the  little  grammar-school  boys  jumping  round  it  like  so 
many  imps  of  darkness,  the  dreaming  faces  of  the  elder  boys 
lit  up  by  the  beautiful  illumination.  There  were  many  grace- 
ful, youthful  figures  among  them.  Anna  stood  in  the  shadow 
regarding  them  with  her  clear,  calm  eyes,  thinking,  as  she  had 
thought  so  often  in  the  last  year,  How  is  it  possible  that  in  all 
Hilligenlei  not  a  single  man  cares  for  you?  And  suppose  any- 
one did  care,  would  you  take  him?  She  did  not  know  of  one. 

"  Anna,"  said  Kai,  his  voice  quivering,  "  I  wanted  to  ask 
you  whether  you  —  " 


HOLYLAND  139 

"  What  ?  "     She  looked  at  him  with  calm  curiosity. 

"  I  want  to  know  —  "  she  could  hear  his  breath  come  and 
go  —  "I  want  to  know,  can  you  care  for  me,  a  little?  " 

For  awhile  astonishment  kept  her  silent.  Then  she  said, 
calmly,  "  You  have  always  been  a  friend  to  us  all.  I  care  for 
you  in  that  way." 

"  That  isn't  what  I  mean,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  know  The- 
deus,  in  the  highest  form,  is  secretly  engaged?  Anna,  I  know 
I  am  a  restless  creature  —  restless  always,  and  unhappy  —  and 
I  don't  know  the  right  thing  to  do;  but  if  you  only  really 
cared  for  me,  oh !  you  are  so  beautiful,  so  pure !  then  you  would 
see  how  faithful,  how  devoted,  I  could  be." 

Anna  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  The  girl  who  is  engaged 
to  Thedeus  must  be  a  very  different  creature  from  me,"  she 
said,  in  her  calm,  clear  voice.  "  No !  "  She  shook  her  fair  head 
decidedly.  "  No!  that  is  not  for  me.  You  are  far  too  young 

—  not  the  right  man  for  me  at  all.    And  to  have  to  wait  five 
or  eight  years !     No !    I  tell  you,  No !     I  had  rather  die !  " 

He  was  crushed  by  the  consciousness  of  having  made  a 
grave  mistake.  "  Oh !  "  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  biting  his  lips. 
"Is  there  someone  else  —  someone  older?" 

Her  proud  face  darkened.  "  Who  will  marry  me  ?  Some 
families  do  not  know  me  because  I  am  the  daughter  of  a  poor 
teacher's  widow.  The  others  think  me  arrogant.  I  do  not 
belong  to  anyone,  except  Anna  Martens  from  Friestadt,  whom 
I  have  known  since  we  were  children.  As  for  the  young  men 

—  there  are  very  few  real  men  here.     Look !   do  you  call  those 
men?" 

Two  teachers  came  past.  One  was  a  valetudinarian,  the 
other  a  mollycoddle.  They  stood  silent  for  some  time.  Then 
she  said  indifferently,  "  Go  to  your  friends.  I  am  going  home." 

"  Oh !  "  he  cried  with  passionate  bitterness,  "  I  love  you.  I 
have  loved  you  ever  since  I  was  a  child.  You  shall  see  there  is 
something  in  me;  I  shall  make  something  of  my  life;  but  you 

—  you  repulse  me  so." 

"  I  cannot  help  it,"  she  said,  and,  turning  from  him,  went 
down  the  path. 

For  a  week  Kai  Jans  went  about  with  folded  lips  and  sombre 
eyes.  People  asked  him  whether  he  was  ill,  and  Jeff  came  out 
into  the  street  to  say  to  him,  "  The  best  thing  for  toothache 


140  HOLYLAND 

is  to  burn  it  out  with  a  sharp,  red-hot  nail."  He  meant  never 
to  enter  the  house  under  the  chestnuts  again. 

One  day,  however,  when  he  had  not  been  there  for  a  fort- 
night, Heinke,  grown  into  a  tall  girl,  came  up  and  said  to  him 
in  her  shy,  winning  way,  "  Kai,  please  help  me.  I've  got  such 
a  dreadful  exercise  to  do." 

He  could  not  resist  this  confiding  appeal.  He  went,  and  was 
glad  to  be  in  the  cosy  little  room  again  with  the  busy  click  of 
the  machine  —  inside,  the  graceful  movements  of  the  girls' 
pretty  hands,  and  the  light  of  their  fair  heads;  outside,  the 
big  chestnuts  casting  a  ruddy  light  —  and  so  he  came  again ; 
but  Anna  was  seldom  there.  She  used  to  find  something  to 
do  in  the  kitchen  or  in  her  own  room,  and  leave  Kai  alone  with 
her  mother  and  Heinke.  He  had  long  talks  with  the  child 
about  her  work  at  school  and  about  Pete.  He  lent  her  books 
and  played  cards  with  her  and  Hett,  and  he  grew  to  be  very 
fond  of  her,  attracted  by  her  shy,  spontaneous  devotion  to  him. 

Passing  once,  he  met  her  in  the  street,  and,  seeing  that  she 
had  been  crying,  asked  her  what  the  matter  was.  She  began 
to  sob,  and  told  him  her  mother  had  scolded  her  severely  for 
taking  Hett's  book,  although  he  had  beforehand  given  her  ex- 
press permission  to  use  it.  It  was  always  so.  He  lied,  but 
mother  believed  him. 

"  Mother  doesn't  love  me  at  all,"  she  sobbed.  "  She  says  I 
do  everything  wrong,  and  am  always  stiff  and  horrid." 

"  How  does  she  come  to  say  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  Hett  is  always  saying  '  Dear,  darling  mamma ' 
twenty  times  a  day  —  that's  what  I  ought  to  do,  but  I  can't." 

"How,  can't?" 

"  I  don't  know.  I  can  think  it,  but  not  say  it.  I  am  not 
really  stiff,  but  I  shall  get  so,"  she  sobbed  piteously. 

He  comforted  her.  "  You  will  soon  be  grown  up,  and  then 
you  will  go  away,  and  afterwards  marry  some  splendid,  clever 
man." 

"  I  haven't  ever  told  anyone,  only  you,  because  you  have 
been  so  good  to  me,  and  say  now  that  I  shall  marry.  I  wish 
it  would  come  soon.  I  can't  get  on  at  all  with  mother  and 
Hett." 

He  was  touched  by  her  affectionate  confidence.  "  We  shall 
always  be  friends.  Let  us  shake  hands  upon  it." 

"Ah!  you  are  always  good  to  me.     You  are  the  only  one 


HOLYLAND  141 

who  is."  Her  eyes  sparkling  with  tears  as  she  looked  seriously 
up  at  him,  she  shook  his  hand,  and  then  ran  off  into  the  house. 

His  offer  of  friendship  was  genuinely  meant,  but  the  tall, 
fair  child  hardly  knew  what  she  was  doing.  She  used  to  go 
out  into  the  fields  these  summer  months  and  pick  a  spray  here 
and  a  flower  there  on  the  paths  and  along  the  hedgerows,  mak- 
ing them,  with  exquisite,  natural  taste,  into  a  nosegay  as  she 
went  along,  wondering  what  to  do  with  it,  and  dreaming  of 
how  she  should  manage  to  give  it  to  Kai  Jans.  She  sank  on  her 
knees  by  the  wall,  regarding  the  nosegay  and  picturing  to  her- 
self his  expression,  his  beautiful,  true  eyes:  hearing  the  sound 
of  his  voice.  She  got  up  and  went  on,  still  lost  in  thought. 
On  her  way  home  through  the  meadows  she  became  first 
thoughtful  and  then  gradually  sad,  till  finally,  sitting  down 
on  the  last  stile,  she  picked  out  one  flower  after  another  and 
threw  them  into  the  water,  and  so  went  silently  home. 

Kai  Jans  talked  much  with  her,  and  enjoyed  their  intercourse 
together;  but  his  thoughts  were  with  her  elder  sister.  "  Where 
is  Anna?  " 

"  Away !  "  said  Heinke. 

"Where?" 

"  At  the  tailoress's,  with  Anna  Martens.  She  is  learning 
dressmaking,  you  know." 

"Where  is  Anna?" 

"Away!" 

"  Where  ?    This  is  not  the  time  for  her  lessons,  surely." 

"  She  is  playing  hide-and-seek  in  the  lane  with  the  children." 

What  was  Anna  doing  in  the  lane? 

This  year  her  life  seemed  yet  more  and  more  desolate.  One 
day  followed  after  another  unmarked  by  any  great  event.  Her 
soul  was  already  becoming  disturbed  and  embittered  —  yet 
Anna  had  her  joy  —  a  great,  deep,  secret  joy. 

This  last  year,  every  afternoon,  as  she  worked  in  the  kitchen, 
she  heard  a  little  voice  pipe  out  like  a  little  sparrow,  "  Antje 
Boje?" 

Then  she  would  step  out,  with  her  graceful,  swinging  move- 
ments, into  the  garden  in  her  big  cooking-apron.  There  they 
were,  the  two  children,  in  the  waterway,  and  their  father  be- 
hind. The  mother  was  always  too  sickly  to  come  out  with 
them.  Anna  bent  to  talk  to  the  children,  and  as  she  did  so 
"  knack  "  went  her  knees.  Whereupon  they  all  three  laughed. 


142  HOLYLAND 

Then  the  elder  child  would  say,  while  she  held  the  younger  in 
her  arms,  "  What  have  you  had  for  dinner?  "  "  Where  have 
you  been?"  "Do  you  like  my  dress?"  "Just  look  at  my 
stockings!"  And  the  little  one  would  stroke  her  hair  and 
catch  hold  of  her  ear  and  say,  "  Ei!  ei!  what  a  white  ear  you've 
got!  and  what  shining  hair!  Mother's  hair  doesn't  shine. 
And  what  a  red  mouth !  "  And  then,  pursing  up  its  lips,  it 
kissed  her.  And  Anna  —  proud,  silent  Anna  —  stroked  the 
child  and  pressed  it  to  her  breast  with  words  of  love.  Then 
she  would  get  up  and  look  up,  all  confusion,  into  the  clever, 
kindly  face  of  the  man,  and  exchange  a  few  words  with  him. 
At  last,  saying  "  I  must  go  back  to  my  work,"  she  would  press 
the  children's  hands  and  be  gone,  turning  round  under  the  apple 
tree  to  nod  to  them.  What  a  beautiful  picture  it  was  to  see 
her  standing  with  her  fair  hair  and  haughty  figure  under  the 
white  blossoms  or  the  ripe  fruit  on  the  tree! 

What  was  Anna  doing  in  the  lane  ?  This  —  this  was  her 
pure,  secret  joy.  But  now,  this  summer  —  this  summer  it  was 
rather  different  —  it  was  misery,  it  was  bliss. 

"  Mother  cares  nothing  for  me.  Heinke  is  still  a  child. 
Hett  thinks  of  no  one  but  himself.  Pete  is  far  away.  What 
am  I  to  do  with  my  life?  Crete  Deeken  married  at  nineteen, 
Lisbeth  Thaden  at  twenty.  I  am  twenty-two,  and  he  does 
not  come.  I  am  deserted.  Oh !  if  only  he  were  single  —  he 
who  talks  to  me  in  the  lane.  He  would  want  my  love.  Oh! 
how  good  he  is.  How  clever.  What  dear  eyes." 

She  had  known  him  since  she  was  a  child. 

Was  there  no  young  man  in  Hilligenlei,  then,  with  eyes  to 
see  that  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  all  the  countryside  was 
this  glorious,  youthful  strength,  this  hidden  intelligence?  To 
take  her  by  the  hand  and  rejoice  in  the  beauty  of  her  body  and 
of  her  transparent  soul,  which  should  bring  up  a  race  of  strong 
and  healthy  children  to  cope  with  the  evil  of  the  world? 

Oh  the  young  men  of  Hilligenlei!  One  is  diseased  from  a 
youth  of  dissipation ;  he  should  be  a  man  but  he  drags  himself 
along  the  sea  wall,  gasping  for  breath.  Two  others,  healthy- 
minded  young  fellows  enough,  tramp  about  the. country  with 
great  sticks  in  their  hands  and  their  eyes  bent  on  the  road, 
learning  to  talk  pompously  about  the  management  of  the  State 
at  an  age  when  a  man  cannot  see  beyond  the  eyes  of  a  girl  and 
his  work. 


HOLYLAND  143 

Other  young  folk  of  the  middle  classes  get  behind  their 
father's  counter  as  soon  as  they  come  back  from  service,  and 
sit  at  their  father's  desk,  and  cast  about  them  for  a  wife  with 
money-bags,  by  which  means  they  win  a  helpmeet,  who,  think- 
ing more  of  her  portion  than  her  person,  keeps  portion  and  keys 
under  her  own  control  to  prevent  her  spouse  from  doing  any- 
thing reckless.  So  they  sit,  in  their  poky  little  shops  in  the 
poky  little  streets,  with  a  view  bounded  by  their  neighbour's 
wall,  where  they  never  hear  the  fresh  wind  blow  or  realize 
that  a  clean,  strong  man  of  good  courage  is  worth  more  than 
ten  thousand  pounds. 

Others,  when  their  work  is  finished,  go  and  sit  over  their 
beer  with  the  married  men  of  the  club.  The  old  men  tell 
coarse  stories  and  corrupt  the  young,  until  they  are  too  cow- 
ardly, too  corrupt,  for  marriage  and  all  that  it  involves. 

No  man  thought  of  Anna  Boje. 

When  she  went  past  they  would  say,  "  That's  a  fine  girl. 
Look  how  she  walks!  " 

Whereupon  the  others  retorted,  "  Don't  waste  time  in  look- 
ing at  her.  She  hasn't  got  a  penny,  and  she's  waiting  for  a 


prince 


Such  are  the  young  folk  of  Hilligenlei,  and  therefore,  at 
two-and-twenty,  Anna  Boje's  pure  soul  is  tortured  by  a  thought 
from  which  no  inward  struggles  avail  to  set  her  free.  "  Oh! 
if  he  were  single!  and  loved  me!  oh!  what  bliss  that  would 
be!" 

Kai  Jans  was  far  too  young  for  her.  Once  he  found  her 
alone  in  the  kitchen.  He  went  close  up  to  her  and  implored 
her,  "Anna  —  Anna,  give  me  one  kiss  —  once  —  only  once  in 
my  life." 

She  stepped  back  in  anger.  "  I  ask  you  to  leave  me  alone," 
she  said.  "  I  do  not  care  for  such  jests.  If  you  say  anything 
of  the  sort  again,  Kai,  our  friendship  is  at  an  end." 

One  evening  a  few  days  later  she  was  going  into  the  garden 
to  bring  in  some  washing  which  she  had  put  out  to  bleach,  and 
saw  him  standing  in  the  lane  with  a  tall,  pretty  farm  girl,  the 
child  of  degraded  parents,  and  herself  a  wanton. 

When  he  came  two  days  afterwards  her  scorn  blazed  out. 
'  That's  the  company  you  choose !  You,  who  have  always 
talked  so  grandly  about  Hilligenlei!  Did  you  go  out  into  the 
world  to  look  for  it,  and  now  come  back  to  go  with  her !  " 


144  HOLYLAND 

He  was  angry  in  his  turn.  "  It's  your  fault,"  he  cried ; 
"  yes,  yours.  If  you  only  loved  me,  I  could  believe  in  Hiili- 
genlei  still ;  but  now  —  " 

She  was  astonished.  "  That's  very  fine !  It's  my  fault,  in- 
deed !  I  will  tell  you  something  —  the  fault  is  in  you  yourself, 
Kai  Jans." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

AT  the  end  of  August  Kai  Jans  passed  his  leaving  examina- 
tion. Three  days  later  he  came  up  chestnut  avenue  to  say 
goodbye.  Anne  gave  him  her  hand  with  perfect  composure. 
Heinke  gave  his  a  quick,  hard  squeeze  and  ran  out  of  the  room 
to  cry.  Kassen  Wedderkop  was  to  go  with  him  to  Hamburg, 
then  he  was  to  go  on  to  Heidelberg  alone. 

In  the  evening  of  the  same  day  came  a  letter  from  Pete, 
from  Hamburg.  "  Anna  is  to  come."  He  had  always  prom- 
ised she  should  see  Hamburg  one  day,  and  he  should  pay  for 
her.  Now  he  was  keeping  his  word. 

Happy  in  his  thought  of  her,  and  in  this  break  in  the  endless 
monotony  of  her  existence,  she  surprised  the  two  travellers  by 
appearing  at  the  station  early  next  morning  and  accompany- 
ing them.  She  had  never  been  out  of  Hilligenlei  before,  and 
gazed  in  dumb  astonishment  out  of  the  window  as  they  passed 
through  the  huge  town  in  the  train. 

Pete  was  at  the  station.  It  was  astonishing  to  see  him  there. 
She  had  always  seen  him  in  Hilligenlei  before,  and  now  there 
he  stood,  in  this  strange  place,  among  strange  people,  and 
glanced  sharply  at  her  and  nodded.  He  had  always  been 
like  that  from  his  childish  days,  and  that  was  what  she  so 
loved  in  him  —  that  manly  determination. 

"  Well,"  said  Kassen  Wedderkop,  "  you  be  off  and  show 
Anna  Hamburg,  but  meet  me  this  evening  at  seven  in  the 
coffee-room  of  the  '  Imperial '  at  Altona.  Sit  so  that  you  can 
see  into  the  bar.  I  shall  bring  two  friends  who  were  with 
me  in  the  East  —  both  natives  of  Hilligenlei.  Off  with  you!  " 

They  put  Anna  between  them  and  went  down  to  the  Jung- 
fernstieg.  He  showed  her  the  post-office  and  the  monument, 
and  the  huge  banks  and  hotels  along  the  Alster;  then  they 
went  across  the  market  down  to  the  harbour  where  they  took 
steamer. 

Her  first  excess  of  astonishment  soon  wore  off.  She  looked 
at  everything  with  calm,  rather  wondering  eyes,  as  much  as 

MS 


146  HOLYLAND 

to  say,  "  What  is  all  this  to  me  ?  What  have  all  these  people, 
all  these  buildings,  to  do  with  me?  If  there  was  only  one 
person  who  belonged  to  me!  "  Now  and  then,  when  she  could 
do  so  unobserved,  she  looked  sideways  at  her  brother  and 
thought  of  her  childhood,  till  her  heart  warmed  to  him,  and 
she  grieved  that  he  was  always  so  cool  and  curt  towards  her, 
as  she  thought,  "  Kai  Jans  is  not  nearly  so  self-confident." 

He  in  his  turn  looked  at  her  unobserved,  and  thought, 
"  What  a  change !  She  stood  bare-footed  on  the  shore  in  a 
frock  that  only  just  reached  down  to  her  knees,  and  she  had 
cut  her  little  foot  on  a  mussel-shell,  so  that  it  bled.  Now  she 
is  a  big,  handsome  girl !  " 

Kai  Jans  looked  straight  in  front  of  him,  searching  for  the 
Gude  Wife  among  the  forest  of  masts. 

On  board  the  Gude  Wife  steam  was  puffing,  chains  rattling, 
voices  shouting.  Kai  Jans  went  fore  to  see  the  fo'c'sle  and  the 
men,  but  Pete  and  Anna  went  aft.  In  answer  to  her  whis- 
pered question,  he  showed  her  where  he  stood  when  he  was  on 
duty,  and  she  stood  there  gazing  over  the  big  ship  and  up  into 
the  topmasts,  trying  to  see,  with  the  help  of  pictures  she  remem- 
bered, what  her  brother  saw  in  times  of  sunshine  or  of  storm. 
She  took  hold  of  his  hand  gently,  without  looking  at  him,  and 
then  followed  him  down  the  companion.  "  This  is  where  I 
live,  do  you  see  ?  " 

"Dear  me!"  she  cried  in  genuine  surprise,  "what  a  tiny 
place!" 

He  laughed. 

"  Well,  remember,  the  great  Pe  Ontjes  had  this  room  when 
he  was  second." 

"  Where  is  he  now?  "    she  asked  indifferently. 

r<  To-day  he  is  in  Hamburg.  To-morrow  he's  going  over 
with  the  men  to  Glasgow  to  his  ship.  He  means  to  do  two 
voyages  on  it  and  then  come  home  to  Hilligenlei  and  see  if  his 
father's  business  can  be  expanded." 

"Oh!"     She  had  already  heard  as  much  in  Hilligenlei. 

"  Weren't  you  surprised,"  he  said,  "  at  my  getting  a  second 
mate's  berth  so  soon  and  on  such  a  good  ship  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed.  You  can't  think  how  delighted  mother  and 
all  of  us  were." 

"  Well,  there's  something  more  for  you  to  tell  her !  "  After 
some  rummaging  in  his  locker  he  produced  a  Shipbuilding 


HOLYLAND  14; 

Journal,  and,  after  showing  her  the  title,  opened  it.  "  Look 
here!"  She  read:  "The  Employment  of  Steam  Engines  or 
Motors  on  Large  Sailing  Vessels,"  and  underneath,  "  By  Pete 
Boje." 

Pressing  her  hand  to  her  breast,  she  looked  at  him  with 
sparkling  eyes.  "  Oh,  Pete !  "  she  said. 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  said  he,  "  I  had  a  lot  of  trouble  over  it. 
Not  the  matter,  you  know  —  that  I  saw  plainly  enough  — 
but  expressing  it.  That  was  my  difficulty.  One  is  never  sure 
if  one  hasn't  been  to  a  high  school.  Well,  I  got  the  post  on 
that,  you  see.  And  at  the  same  time  I  showed  this  model,  this 
one  here,  to  our  owner.  Of  course,  you  can't  understand  it,  but 
it  shows  how  the  carrying  capacity  can  be  increased.  That's 
it!  Eyes  open,  ready,  aye,  ready,  forwards!  That's  the  thing, 
and  I  am  like  that." 

"What  started  you  on  such  ideas  originally?" 

"  Oh !  that  was  the  old  boy  on  the  Clara  —  do  you  remem- 
ber? He  put  me  on  the  track." 

"  What  has  happened  to  him  ?  " 

"  They  said  he  died  in  hospital  in  Lisbon." 

He  spread  the  newspaper  out  once  more,  laughing  happily. 
"  It  was  great  fun  doing  it,  I  can  tell  you,"  he  said,  putting 
it  away  again. 

Anna  leant  across  the  table  to  look  at  the  pictures  nailed 
against  the  wall.  How  strange  to  see,  in  this  unfamiliar  little 
room,  a  picture  of  their  parents  taken  soon  after  their  marriage, 
and  the  picture  of  Heinke  and  Hett  taken  when  they  were  ten. 
And  there  was  her  picture,  at  eighteen,  her  eyes  full  of  con- 
fusion because  the  photographer,  a  young  man,  had  accidentally 
touched  her  hair  in  putting  her  head  in  the  position  he  wanted. 
Who  was  that  next  to  her,  with  a  short,  fair  beard?  Recog- 
nizing Pe  Ontjes  Lau,  she  gave  a  sharp,  suspicious  look  at  the 
picture  and  turned  away. 

When  she  had  seen  everything  and  admired  the  cabin,  they 
all  three  left  the  ship  and  spent  the  day  in  going  about  —  along 
the  Alster,  to  the  picture  galleries,  up  and  down  the  principal 
streets. 

Towards  evening  they  were  sitting,  it  being  warm  enough, 
under  the  glass  roof  in  front  of  the  Alster  pavilion,  when  who 
should  come  up  but  a  tall,  elegant  gentleman  with  a  round, 
beardless  face  and  large  eyes  shining  with  friendliness.  In  a 


148  HOLYLAND 

word,  Tjark  Dusenschon.  He  bowed  to  Anna,  tall  hat  in 
hand,  and  said  with  a  kind  of  friendliness,  "  With  your  per- 
mission, ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  will  sit  near  you.  I  generally 
take  a  cup  of  coffee  here,"  he  said,  "  when  business  goes  well, 
and  as  that  fortunately  occurs  frequently,  I  frequently  take 
coffee  here." 

The  waiter  came  hurrying  up  and  took  his  overcoat,  his 
white  silk  scarf,  and  his  silver-mounted  cane.  He  seated  him- 
self comfortably  beside  them.  "  I  recognized  you  on  your 
entrance  because  I  recognized  Pete." 

"  Why  do  you  never  come  to  Hilligenlei,"  said  Anna,  in  a 
voice  of  suppressed  anger,  "  when  your  grandmother  lives 
there?" 

Tjark  looked  at  her  calmly  and  said,  "  I  have  no  necessity 
to  go  there,  Miss  Boje,  and  my  grandmother  earns  her  living 
by  her  work.  Why  should  I  go  to  Hilligenlei?  It  is  not  as  if 
there  were  any  business  to  be  done  there,  and  I  have  no  time 
to  make  excursions  merely  for  pleasure." 

"  What  are  you  doing  now,  then  ?  "  asked  Kai  Jans. 

"  I  have  been  head  assistant  for  the  last  five  years.  At  pres- 
ent I  am  with  a  money-broker." 

He  looked  at  them  all  in  turn,  just  as  he  had  done  once  in 
Jeff's  smithy. 

"  A  money-broker,"  said  Anna.  "  What  in  the  world's 
that?" 

"  I  will  explain  to  you  shortly,  Miss  Boje,"  said  Tjark, 
politely  turning  to  her.  "  There  are  people  who  need  money 
for  some  undertaking  or  other,  and  there  are  other  people  who 
have  money  which  they  wish  to  employ.  Well,  they  don't 
know  of  one  another,  do  you  see?  My  business  is  to  bring 
them  together.  Waiter!  For  example,  if  the  waiter  wants  to 
set  up  a  hotel,  but  has  no  capital  of  his  own,  I  can  very  pos- 
sibly supply  him  with  it.  A  cup  of  black,  please,  waiter." 

The  Hilligenlei  children  stared.  Old  Stiena  Dusenschon 
was  wont  to  stand  in  front  of  the  long  house,  with  her  bonnet 
strings  flying,  and  tell  wonderful  stories  of  Tjark  —  Tj-a-a-rk 
—  and  behold!  it  was  all  true !  How  elegantly  he  was  dressed, 
and  what  an  air  of  ease  and  respectability  there  was  about  him ! 

"And  you,  Kai!    What  are  you  doing?" 

"  I'm  going  first  to  Heidelberg  and  then  Berlin  to  study 
theology  and  modern  languages." 


HOLYLAND  149 

"Theology!  I'm  glad  of  that,"  said  Tjark,  thoughtfully. 
"  The  masses  need  clergymen ;  they  are  their  natural  leaders. 
You,  as  a  workman's  son,  will  understand  the  people.  And 
you,  Miss  Boje!  Are  you  still  at  home?" 

"  There  is  enough  to  do  there,"  said  Anna. 

"  If  you  should  ever  think  of  a  situation  in  Hamburg,  please 
write  to  me.  I  have  connections  with  several  very  good  fam- 
ilies, and  could  probably  secure  you  something  suitable." 

"  I  should  rather  like  to  go  now,"  said  Anna.  "  I  have  been 
walking  about  all  day,  and  should  be  glad  to  rest  a  little." 

"  I  shall  remain  here  for  a  while,"  said  Tjark,  getting  up 
and  politely  helping  Anna  on  with  her  jacket. 

"  I  cannot  bear  that  man,"  said  Anna  when  they  were  on 
their  way.  "  Everything  about  him  is  false,  from  his  round, 
shining  face  and  his  worldly  wisdom  upwards." 

Pete  and  Kai  were  silent.    Tjark  had  impressed  them. 

By  eight  o'clock  they  were  at  the  Imperial  Hotel  in  Altona, 
and,  asking  rather  shyly  for  the  coffee-room,  they  sat  down. 
When  the  waiter  came  up  they  ordered  a  bottle  of  wine,  for 
the  first  time  in  their  lives.  Pete  ordered  it,  and  none  of  them 
ever  forgot  the  occasion  —  a  bottle  of  the  lightest  Moselle. 
They  then  ventured  to  look  about  them.  They  became  more 
sure  of  themselves,  and  began  to  feel  comfortable  when  they 
saw  that  the  groups  at  the  other  tables  were  continuing  their 
usual  conversation.  Anna  soon  observed  a  solitary  guest  sitting 
sideways  at  a  little  table  with  a  bottle  of  claret  in  front  of  him, 
who  kept  looking  across  to  them  without  moving.  His  dress, 
of  dark-grey  cloth,  seemed  to  indicate  that  he  belonged  to  the 
well-to-do  tradesman  class;  there  was  nothing  remarkable 
about  his  broad  head  or  the  fat,  white  hands  folded  together 
on  the  table;  and  yet  there  was  something  about  him  that  made 
her  anxious  to  see  his  face  more  distinctly. 

She  forced  herself  to  look  away,  only  to  look  again  after  a 
brief  space  of  time. 

He  was  looking  with  a  dull,  fixed  stare  at  them  from  under 
his  heavy,  pendulous  eyelids.  She  became  uncomfortable,  and 
turning  right  away,  leaned  against  the  table.  Kai  Jans,  having 
cast  a  cheerful  glance  round  the  room,  now  turned  to  her  with 
lifted  glass.  At  that  moment  he  caught  sight  of  the  stranger 
behind  her  with  an  immediate  sensation  of  discomfort.  He 
turned  so  as  not  to  see  him  any  longer,  and  drawing  a  deep 


150  HOLYLAND 

breath,  said,  "  Now,  over  the  Elbe  and  out  into  the  world ! " 
With  a  friendly  nod  to  the  other  two,  he  drank. 

At  that  moment  Kassen  Wedderkop  appeared,  limping 
slightly,  but  in  a  good  humour  for  all  that,  and  behind  him 
his  two  friends  —  a  short  man  with  red  hair,  and  a  tall  man 
with  fair  hair,  all  three  portly,  comfortable-looking  men  about 
fifty. 

"Hallo!"  said  the  little  red-haired  man.  "Are  we  to  sit 
with  these  young  folk?" 

"  You  behave!  "  said  Kassen  Wedderkop.  "  It's  a  long  time 
since  you  sat  with  anyone  so  young  and  charming.  Look  at 
Anna  Boje.  Have  you  had  a  good  day,  child?" 

The  tall  fair-haired  man  sat  down  next  to  Anna. 

Fresh  wine  was  put  on  the  table. 

"  Have  I  ever  told  you,"  he  said  to  Wedderkop,  "  how  I 
spent  a  week  with  a  beautiful  young  girl?  A  long  time  ago. 
It's  a  story  that  goes  with  wine,  and  one  that  can  be  told  in 
a  young  lady's  presence." 

He  looked  at  Anna  with  an  expression  of  friendly  politeness. 

"Would  you  like  to  hear  it?  You  two  old  fellow-travellers 
know  that  I  spent  my  childhood  in  Hilligenlei,  my  boyhood  in 
Itzehoe.  There  were  two  of  us  —  my  brother  and  myself; 
we  had  no  sister.  We  never  left  the  town.  We  shared  the 
society  of  our  parents  —  very  stiff,  very  respectable,  for  our 
parents  were  very  proper  in  their  views.  We  only  knew  young 
girls  so  far  as  dancing  with  them  in  black  coats  and  white 
gloves  at  balls,  or  bowing  politely  when  we  passed  them  in 
the  streets.  We  were  like  our  parents.  We  went  on  in  this 
way  until  I  was  twenty-seven  and  my  brother  twenty-five.  He 
also  was  in  business. 

"  One  day,  out  of  sheer  boredom  and  idle  curiosity,  my 
brother  made  a  little  expedition  to  visit  a  distant  cousin  of 
ours  —  a  clergyman  —  who  lived  under  a  thatched  roof  in  a 
remote  country  village  in  our  district.  Just  as  he  had  sat 
down  to  tea  between  his  cousin  and  his  wife  in  came  a  tall, 
beautiful  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  neighbouring  landowner,  who 
was  staying  with  them  at  the  time.  After  tea  he  seized  the 
opportunity  of  walking  in  the  garden  with  her  for  an  hour. 

"  A  week  later  he  went  aeain.  A  fortnight  later  they  met 
secretly  for  the  third  time.  Then  they  were  engaged,  and  soon 
afterwards  she  came  to  stay  with  us  at  home  for  a  week. 


HOLYLAND  151 

"  This  week  was  the  most  beautiful  and  memorable  time  in 
my  whole  life.  In  those  days  we  two  good,  stupid  young  men 
learnt  to  know  something  the  very  existence  of  which  we  had 
not  suspected  —  something  more  wonderful  than  we  had 
dreamed  that  the  world  contained  —  for  we  learned  in  those 
days  to  know  a  beautiful  young  girl,  sound  in  mind  and  body, 
as  innocent,  as  natural  as  if  only  created  yesterday  by  the  hand 
of  God.  We  had  learned  in  school  the  different  kinds  of 
rhinoceros  that  are  to  be  found  in  Africa.  We  had  learned 
what  an  opera  was,  the  meaning  of  foreign  trade,  and  how  to 
open  an  oyster.  But  this  was  a  creature  such  as  we  had  never 
come  across.  We  had  no  knowledge  of  it,  subjective  or  objec- 
tive. Now,  suddenly,  we  learnt  to  know  it. 

"  I  can  give  you  no  idea  of  how  wonderful  it  all  was  — 
how  unspeakably  happy  that  week  was  for  us.  My  brother  and 
I  were  lost  in  wonder  at  this  piece  of  creation.  It  was  sum- 
mer. She  lay,  in  all  her  beauty,  on  the  grass  in  our  garden, 
clad  in  a  loose  garment,  my  brother  at  her  head,  and  I  at  her 
feet.  For  you  must  remember  that  it  never  occurred  to  me  to 
torture  myself,  because  her  young  beauty  and  purity  did  not  be- 
long to  me.  No;  my  heart  was  full  of  nothing  but  joy.  I 
rejoiced  in  her  as  in  a  beautiful  sister  who  had  just  come  to  me. 
And  it  was  not  that  I  had  never  seen  beauty  before.  There 
were  many  pretty  girls  in  the  neighbourhood.  No ;  the  wonder 
of  it  all  was  the  exquisite  un-self-consciousness  with  which  she 
permitted  us  to  see  the  loveliness  of  her  body  and  her  mind. 
Every  movement  of  her  limbs,  every  word  that  she  uttered, 
roused  my  admiration.  She  moved  with  the  grace  with  which 
a  younger,  tender  wood  bends  and  sways  under  the  breath  of 
the  rustling  wind.  Her  words  were  the  speech  of  a  blossoming 
lime  tree.  Our  eyes  followed  every  movement  of  her  lips. 

'  The  week  passed  by.  I  had  to  go  to  Hamburg,  and  soon 
afterwards  to  China."  He  looked  thoughtfully  into  his  glass. 
"  Whether  that  week  has  kept  me  always  single,  I  don't  know. 
It  was  the  most  beautiful  time  in  my  life,  that  I  do  know." 

Taking  up  his  glass  and  turning  to  Anna  Boje,  he  pledged 
her,  "  It  is  your  fault  that  I  told  the  story." 

The  others  bowed  to  her.  Kai  Jans  looked  at  the  delicate 
flush  on  her  face,  and  thought,  "  How  beautiful  she  is!  " 

Kassen  Wedderkop  refilled  their  glasses,  and  for  a  time 
they  sat  chatting  and  looking  at  the  people  sitting  at  the  tables 


152  HOLYLAND 

or  going  to  and  fro.  Anna  turned  to  Pete  and  said  to  him  in 
a  low  voice,  "  Look  at  the  stout  man  in  grey  behind  me  — 
rather  to  the  side."  Pete  leaned  so  as  to  look  past  his  sister, 
and  saw  the  man  still  sitting  behind  his  bottle  of  claret.  There 
was  something  unnatural  in  his  stolid  immobility  and  the  fixed 
stare  of  his  goggle  eyes,  still  directed  to  their  table,  which  sug- 
gested that  his  mind  was  elsewhere  —  something  of  the  un- 
canny feeling  of  an  empty  house.  Pete  turned  quickly  away. 
"  One  of  the  claret-bibbing  Hamburg  Philistines,  the  sort  that 
lets  other  people  do  the  working  and  thinking  for  them.  What 
does  he  matter  to  us?" 

Wedderkop  turned  to  the  short,  red-haired  man.  "  There's 
something  I  want  to  ask  you  about.  Do  you  remember  the 
voyage  we  three  went  together  from  Vladivostock  to  San  Fran- 
cisco on  the  Russian  steamer?  I  never  experienced  anything 
like  it  in  my  life.  We  held  on  our  course,  driving,  day  after 
day,  through  grey  waves  that  were  like  mountains,  through  the 
icy,  driving  mist,  through  snowstorms  that  raged  from  morning 
until  night,  on,  though  the  engines  were  rotten,  and  there  was 
no  navigation  worth  the  name  and  no  look-out  of  any 
sort.  We  three,  the  only  Germans  among  a  pack  of  Russians, 
drinking  and  cursing  in  front  of  their  icons.  We  two,  that 
tall  fellow  there  and  myself,  were  in  a  tremendous  state  of 
mind,  for  we  seemed  at  any  moment  likely  to  be  charging  down 
the  Milky  Way  into  eternity.  But  you  seemed  quite  detached. 
What  was  it?  " 

The  little  man  looked  thoughtfully  at  his  friend  out  of  his 
intelligent  eyes,  and  then  jovially  towards  Anna,  and  began: 
"  I,  too,  can  tell  a  story  that  goes  well  with  wine  and  is  fit 
for  a  pretty  girl  to  hear.  As  you  know,  I  was  born  in  the  par- 
sonage at  Hilligenlei.  The  house  is  just  the  same  as  it  was 
then.  My  father  was  rather  a  stiff,  narrow-minded  man  —  too 
busy  to  trouble  much  about  his  children.  My  mother  —  I  do 
not  like  to  speak  of  it  before  others,  and  I  do  not  know  how 
far  she  was  to  blame  and  how  far  my  father ;  but  however  that 
may  be  —  she  ran  away.  She  is  dead  now.  We  children  had 
a  hard  time  —  father  cold  and  hard,  mother  always  with  bitter 
words  on  her  lips.  Then  afterwards  only  father.  The  result 
was  that  when  we  came  to  be  confirmed,  I,  the  parson's  son, 
scoffed  at  the  words  my  father  spoke  from  the  pulpit  more  bit- 
terly than  any  of  the  others,  I  was  just  the  same  when  I  was 


HOLYLAND  153 

an  apprentice  in  Hamburg  —  a  sophisticated  cynic.  A  few 
years  later,  when  I  was  two-and-twenty,  I  went  to  Hongkong. 

"  I  had  been  there  about  two  years  when  I  was  introduced 
to  a  young  married  couple.  He  was  English,  she  the  daughter 
of  a  Hamburg  merchant.  She  must  have  been  about  thirty  at 
the  time,  blooming  with  the  health  and  happiness  of  wife  and 
mother,  and  she  soon  saw  how  distorted  and  unnatural  my 
point  of  view  was.  Pitying  me  she  began  to  help  me.  Her  un- 
derstanding was  marvellous.  She  used  to  let  me  prate  and 
criticise,  and  mock  and  almost  acquiesce,  but  whenever  I  cast 
anything  down  in  the  mud  and  trampled  on  it  she  used  to  pick 
it  up  and  put  it  away  in  some  clean  place,  just  like  a  mother 
carefully  putting  awray  a  stiff,  old-fashioned  dress  which  has 
been  the  grandmother's  pride.  And  so  my  hardness  was  grad- 
ually melted. 

"  Although  she  was  still  quite  young,  she  harl  been  all  over 
the  world  with  her  husband.  She  had  seen  Catholicism  in  its 
severest  form  in  South  America.  She  had  stood  by  the  sick-bed 
of  a  heathen  sage  in  Japan.  She  had  a  Catholic  friend  in  Hong- 
kong who  had  none  but  Latin  books  upon  his  shelves,  and  she 
had  read  widely.  She  knew  Plato  and  Marcus  Aurelius,  and, 
above  all,  Goethe.  She  never  attacked  anything  or  anyone. 
She  was  always  ready  to  yield.  But  from  her  quiet  and  gentle 
talk  I  came  to  see  the  humble  reverence  for  that  mysterious 
power  that  transcends  human  comprehension  which  formed  the 
sound  basis  of  her  soul ;  and,  as  I  saw,  my  nature  became  puri- 
fied of  the  falsehood  that  had  penetrated  it,  and  developed  into 
a  quiet  sincerity. 

"  Of  course,  I  fell  desperately  in  love  with  her,  and  thought 
I  could  not  live  apart  from  her  —  so  good,  so  beautiful,  so 
clever.  One  day  I  realized  that  if  I  were  not  to  be  ruined  I 
must  go.  I  went. 

"  My  going  was  made  a  little  easier  by  a  secret  hope.  When 
I  was  at  their  home  I  used,  with  her  permission,  to  look  at  the 
pictures  about  the  rooms,  and  among  them  I  kept  coming  upon 
one  of  her  younger  sister,  who  was  twenty-one,  and  very  like 
her,  and  lived  in  Hamburg  with  her  parents.  So,  I  thought, 
'  I  shall  go  to  Hamburg  and  marry  the  sister,  her  double.' 

"  I  got  leave  of  absence,  came  to  Hamburg,  visited  the  par- 
ents with  messages  from  their  daughter,  and  saw  her  sister. 
She  was  just  like  my  beloved  —  exactly  alike  in  appearance, 


154  HOLYLAND 

with  the  same  friendly  gaiety  in  her  brown  eyes.  She  was 
clever,  too,  and  knew  Marcus  Aurelius  and  Goethe,  and  she 
was  kind  to  me.  But  something  was  wanting.  Her  soul  had 
not  the  depths,  the  still  blue  depths,  the  reverence  for  the  eter- 
nal mysteries.  She  could  jest  at  religion." 

He  gazed  thoughtfully  in  front  of  him. 

"  I  could  not  marry  her,"  he  said.  "  My  thoughts  went  back 
to  the  other,  living  in  happiness  in  Hongkong.  They  still  go 
there.  Those  two  years  in  Hongkong  were  the  happiest  of  my 
life." 

Raising  his  head,  he  looked  at  Anna. 

"  It's  your  fault  that  I  told  this  story.  Those  dear,  calm 
eyes  of  yours  say,  '  Tell  something  true.'  They  remind  me  of 
her  eyes,  though  yours  are  light  —  they  ask  for  truth." 

Raising  his  glass,  he  drank  to  her. 

When  they  had  all  drunk,  they  sat  thoughtful  for  a  time. 
The  ruddy  light  shone  down  on  their  heads.  Round  them  blue 
smoke  lay  wreathed.  Anna's  hair  shone  bright.  The  pale- 
faced  waiter  looked  at  the  pleasant  little  party,  watching  the 
movements  of  the  second  old  man's  grey  head. 

The  stranger  sat  still  in  his  place,  his  glass  in  front  of  him 
and  his  hands  folded  round  it,  staring  with  his  expressionless, 
round  grey  eyes  at  the  old  and  young  children  from  Hilligenlei. 

They  ordered  more  wine,  and  drank  gaily.  Kai  Jans,  with 
his  father's  roguish  look  in  his  eyes,  looked  at  Anna.  "  Our 
healths,  Anna!  I  shall  come  home  in  May!  " 

Anna  looked  at  him  with  friendly  eyes  and  laughed. 

Then  the  tall  man,  who  had  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  farmer's 
daughter  in  the  Itzehoe  garden  while  his  brother  sat  at  her 
head,  said,  "  Your  story,  Wedderkop,  took  place  not  far  from 
here,  I  know,  on  the  other  side  of  the  Alster." 

"  I  don't  think  you  know  much  about  it,"  said  Kassen,  "  but 
I  do  not  mind  telling  you.  It's  short  enough,  and,  like  the 
others,  it  goes  with  wine,  and  will  do  for  a  girl  to  hear. 

"  That  time,  when  I  came  home  with  you  two  from  San 
Francisco,  though  only  a  simple  youth,  I  succeeded  in  gaining 
the  good  opinion  of  one  of  the  most  prominent  business  men. 
I  got  to  know  him  in  my  chief's  office,  and  pleased  him  so  much 
that  I  was  invited  to  his  fine  house  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Alster,  where  I  spent  five  happy  weeks. 

"  He  was  an  excellent  man  of  business,  and  still  has  a  high 


HOLYLAND  155 

reputation,  but  with  all  his  keen  sense  for  business  and  business 
advantage,  he  never  lost  sight  of  the  inner  ideal  side  of  the 
profession  of  a  merchant.  Of  those  men  of  business  who  re- 
garded the  making  of  money,  and  yet  more  money,  as  the  sole 
aim  of  life,  he  spoke  with  a  bitter  yet  reasoned  scorn,  rising  to 
lofty  enthusiasm  in  his  description  of  the  kingdom  of  the  true 
merchant,  whose  aim  is  to  see  that  nothing  is  lost  or  wasted 
in  the  world,  but  everything  distributed  to  the  best  advantage 
all  over  its  surface,  and  put  at  the  service  of  those  who  fight 
against  the  evils  and  increase  the  joys  of  life.  Many  an  hour 
would  he  spend  walking  up  and  down  his  garden  with  me  sug- 
gesting thoughts  to  me  which  deepened  my  nature  and  widened 
my  outlook  upon  life.  And  when  we  walked  thus  his  youngest 
daughter  nearly  always  came  with  us.  If  by  any  chance  she 
was  not  there  he  would  call  her.  Whether  he  brought  us  to- 
gether with  any  secret  intention  I  don't  know.  I  do  know 
that  he  was  fond  of  me.  Anyhow,  she  was  young  and  beautiful, 
and  wore  her  simple,  elegant  dress  as  a  young  birch  its  leafy 
crown.  The  garden  was  full  of  glorious  flowers  and  trees,  the 
house  as  full  of  valuable  old  possessions  as  it  was  of  goodness. 
And  so  five  weeks  went  by. 

"  Then  the  lady  of  the  house  came  home  from  a  visit  to  her 
married  children.  She  was  quite  unlike  her  husband  and  her 
youngest  child.  Before  them  she  did  not  show  her  true  self, 
but  she  was  an  arrogant,  ambitious  woman.  She  did  not  like 
me,  and  saw  that  I  did  not  come  again. 

"  So  I  went  back  to  China  and  stayed  fifteen  years  there. 
Why  I  remained  single  I  hardly  know.  Was  it  because  I 
thought  of  the  beautiful  child  in  the  simple,  elegant  dress,  with 
whom  I  had  walked  in  the  lovely  garden  by  the  side  of  that 
good,  gifted  man?  I  don't  know.  Certainly,  I  felt  I  must  not 
fall  below  that  ideal. 

"  After  I  had  been  away  for  fifteen  years  I  was  hit  by  a 
Korean  bullet  up-country.  I  returned  to  Hamburg,  and  after 
depositing  my  little  capital  with  some  friends,  retired  to  Hilli- 
genlei.  Now  I  busy  myself  with  the  thoughts  of  which  he 
spoke  to  me  in  that  beautiful,  sunny  garden  —  thoughts  of  the 
great,  royal  merchant  —  and  even  now  the  thing  that  gives  me 
the  greatest  pleasure  of  all  others  is  any  little  mark  of  recogni- 
tion which  he  sends  me.  He  is  an  old  man  now.  I  know 
nothing  of  his  child." 


156  HOLYLAND 

Lifting  his  glass  to  Anna  Boje,  he  pledged  her. 
"  Well,"  said  the  tall  man,   "  I  should  now  like  to  know 
what  youth  thinks  of  the  three  old  bachelors !  " 

"  Fire    away,    Pete,"    said    Wedderkop.      "  Give    us    your 


opinion 


"  You  are  like  sailors,  all  three,"  said  Pete,  laughing.  "  Go- 
ing to  sea  and  going  to  China  comes  to  the  same  thing.  If  you 
had  stayed  in  Hamburg  you  would  have  all  got  married." 

This  judgment  annoyed  the  three,  and  they  refused  to  ac- 
cept it,  saying,  "  He's  decrying  us!  It's  not  true.  We  won't 
drink  with  him!  " 

"  Now  then,  Anna!  Speak  your  mind  freely.  Have  we  re- 
mained single  without  any  reason  at  all  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Anna,  graciously,  "  that  you  all  three 
wanted  the  very  best,  and  remained  single  because  you  were 
unable  to  attain  it.  A  girl  can  understand  and  respect  such  a 
feeling.  Your  bachelordom  does  you  all  three  credit." 

They  were  much  pleased,  and  toasted  her,  laughing. 

"  Now,"  said  the  tall  man,  "  now  for  the  third.  I  have  all 
the  time  regarded  him  with  suspicion.  His  eyes  are  too  deep- 
set  for  one  to  see  them.  Your  opinion,  sir." 

"  I  agree  with  Anna  Boje,"  said  Kai  Jans,  his  eyes  sparkling. 
"  You  all  wanted  something  pure,  something  holy,  and  that  is 
why  you  are  single.  You  were  right,  because  so  you  have  kept 
your  purity." 

The  three  looked  rather  shamefacedly  into  their  glasses. 
Then  the  tall  man  looked  up  and  said  seriously,  "  I  don't  like 
to  lead  the  young  into  such  an  error.  Once,  indeed,  in  our 
youth  we  have  seen  holiness;  but,  alas!  that  has  not  prevented 
us  from  becoming  sinners  afterwards." 

Kai  Jans  shrank  back,  and  his  face  grew  deadly  pale.  He 
tried  to  rise.  As  he  did  so  the  stranger,  with  his  dark,  empty 
eyes  fixed  upon  him,  rose  also.  But  Kai  sat  down  again,  and 
stared  silently  at  the  table. 

"  We  must  go,"  said  Wedderkop  in  a  depressed  tone.  "  Shall 
you  stay  a  little?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Pete,  calmly,  "  we'll  wait  a  little." 

The  three  went  away. 

They  were  hardly  outside  when  Kai  smote  the  table  with 
his  hand,  and  cried  in  bitter  scorn,  "  Do  you  see?  That's  how 
it  is!  Hilligenlei,  indeed!  "  He  gave  a  mocking  laugh. 


HOLYLAND  157 

He  was  still  laughing  when  the  stranger  came  up  to  their 
table,  and,  sitting  down  opposite  to  him,  said  in  his  dull  voice, 
raising  his  eyes  heavily  to  his  face,  "  I  heard  their  stories,  and 
foresaw  how  it  would  all  turn  out." 

Anna  Boje  cast  a  quick,  timid  glance  at  him.  His  eyes  were 
dull  and  bleared,  like  the  eyes  of  a  fish.  Her  heart  seemed  in 
her  throat  with  fright.  She  tried  in  vain  to  turn  to  Pete. 

Kai  Jans  leaned  forward  heavily.  "  I  am  the  sort  of  per- 
son, you  know,"  he  said,  "  have  been  from  my  childhood,  who 
takes  everything  fearfully  seriously,  oh!  so  seriously.  Yes; 
don't  you  know,  once  —  I  really  thought  —  why,  yes  —  once  I 
went  all  through  the  world  because  —  because  I  always  thought 
that  somehow  the  world  must  be  holy;  but  latterly  — "  he 
laughed  again,  a  mirthless  laugh.  "  Now  the  old  people  come 
with  their  stories,  and  they  must  know  —  they  are  old.  Oh ! 
I  feel  so  strange.  Yes,  I  believe  I  have  for  some  time  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  everything  —  everything  is  indifferent  — 
nothing  matters.  Who  are  you,  pray?  " 

Anna  turned  anxiously  to  Pete,  and  said,  "  Shall  we  go?  " 

"  I  wanted  to  wait  a  little,"  said  Pete,  casting  a  quick 
glance  round  him. 

"Who  for?" 

"  I  met  Pe  Ontjes  yesterday,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  and 
told  him  you  were  coming,  and  he  promised  to  come  at  a  certain 
time.  He  hasn't  much  time.  But  I  thought  he  would  have 
been  here  by  now." 

"  I  could  have  told  you  he  wouldn't  come,"  she  said  sharply. 

At  that  moment  Kai  Jans  sprang  to  his  feet  and  cried  out, 
smiting  the  table,  "  I  tell  you  what,  you  two  Bojes.  You  seek 
for  Hilligenlei.  Yes,  you  seek  for  it.  And  tell  the  others  — 
tell  big  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  and  little  Heinke  —  she  will  be  more 
beautiful  than  you  one  day,  Antje  —  and  tell  Tjark  Dusen- 
schon,  the  princely  fool!  Why  should  I  always  torture  mv- 
self !  Do  you  go  and  seek  for  Hilligenlei.  I  tell  you.  I  shall 
look  out  for  some  other  land." 

Anna  stood  up,  quite  pale.  "  Come,"  she  said.  "  He  is 
drunk.  How  awful!  Everyone  is  looking  at  us.  Come 
Pete." 

The  stranger  stood  beside  Kai.  "  Walk  a  bit  of  the  way 
with  me,"  he  said. 

The  waiter  came  and  helped  Anna  on  with  her  coat. 


158  HOLYLAND 

"Who  is  that?"  said  Pete,  pointing  after  the  two  going 
towards  the  passage,  "  that  man  in  grey?  " 

"  We  don't  know  who  he  is,"  said  the  waiter.  "  He  comes 
here  sometimes  and  drinks  claret,  and  always  manages  to  make 
up  to  some  party  —  generally  young  people.  And  then  the 
fun  is  always  at  an  end." 

He  looked  at  their  darkened  faces. 

"  The  rascal!  "  said  Pete.     "  I  wonder  who  he  is?  " 

Anna  sobbed,  anxious  and  ashamed.  "Go  after  Kai  Jans! 
Oh!  I  am  so  ashamed  of  having  been  seen  by  everybody." 

"Go  after  him!"  said  Pete,  scornfully.  "No,  thank  you. 
He  may  go  where  he  pleases.  It  is  just  as  well  that  his  folly 
is  at  an  end  at  last.  Seek  for  Hilligenlei,  indeed!  The  crea- 
ture is  quite  off  his  head.  We  seek  for  Hilligenlei,  forsooth!  " 
He  took  her  arm  and  went  on  with  her,  leaving  her  at  her 
hotel. 

Anna  went  upstairs,  undressed,  went  to  bed,  and  dreamed  a 
marvellous  dream. 

She  heard  her  name  called,  clear  and  shrill,  "  Anna  Boje," 
and  knew  that  the  voice  of  God  was  calling  her.  "  Yes,  Lord  ?  " 

"  Kai  Jans  has  begun  to  seek  for  Hilligenlei,"  said  God, 
"  and  now  you  must  seek  for  it.  You  know,  someone  in  your 
town  must  seek  and  find  it." 

"  Oh,  Lord  God !  "  she  said.  "  We  Bojes  —  we'll  never  find 
it,  and  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  hasn't  learnt  nearly  enough." 

"What  am  I  to  do,  then?"  said  God. 

"  Oh,  Lord,"  she  said,  "  you  can  be  quite  sure  that  Kai  Jans 
will  begin  to  look  for  it  again.  Do  you  suppose  he  will  even 
stay  for  a  year  with  that  staring,  grey  care-for-nothing?  He 
will  soon  be  on  fire  again  —  he  is  like  that.  And  if  he  begins 
again  I  have  a  younger  sister  called  Heinke,  more  beautiful  and 
more  holy  than  I  am,  who  will  help  him  to  find  it." 

God  raised  His  finger  and  said,  "  You  are  to  seek  for  it, 
too." 

She  shrank  back.  "  Lord,"  she  cried,  "  I  cannot.  I  am  such 
an  unhappy,  restless  mortal." 

God  spoke  seriously  to  her  and  disappeared. 

Next  morning  she  went  back  to  Hilligenlei,  tioubled  and 
disturbed. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

AND  when  Anna  got  home  Heinke  told  her  that  the  three 
from  the  lane  had  gone  with  the  invalid  mother,  who  was  to 
undergo  a  prolonged  treatment  somewhere.  The  return  of  the 
others  depended  on  her  condition.  Heinke  said  it  was  by  no 
means  impossible  that  they  would  give  up  their  house  here  and 
go  south,  somewhere  on  the  Rhine,  on  her  account. 

Anna  pressed  her  red  lips  together.    "  Indeed !  "  she  said. 

Now  she  was  quite  alone.  No  one  cared  for  her,  no  one 
asked  after  her,  no  one  troubled  about  her.  She  would  grad- 
ually wither  and  fade  away.  She  laughed  in  wild  and  bitter 
pain. 

Her  dumb  suffering  lasted  for  a  week.  Then  came  the 
ninth  of  September. 

As  long  as  she  lives  Anna  will  never  forget  that  hot,  sunny 
ninth  of  September,  not  though  she  lives  to  ninety,  nor  think 
that  any  sin  was  committed  on  that  day  by  herself  or  by  another. 
Any  sin  there  was  has  indeed  been  expiated  by  bitter  sorrow, 
the  love  that  can  cover  a  multitude  of  sins. 

On  the  ninth  of  September,  soon  after  midday,  a  quite  unusual 
time,  her  three  friends  stood  in  the  lane  and  knocked  as  usual 
at  the  gate.  Anna  was  standing  by  the  grate,  but  she  heard, 
and  came  running  out  at  once.  Their  eyes  shone  with  pleasure 
at  seeing  her  again,  and  they  cried,  "  How  lovely  to  meet 
again." 

His  eyes  glistened  with  joy.  He  looked  less  tired  than  be- 
fore, when  he  used  to  work  hard  every  day.  Excessive  happi- 
ness made  her  more  confiding  than  she  had  ever  been;  it 
seemed  to  unlock  her  heart. 

"  You  dear,  silly  things,"  she  cried,  kneeling  down  in  ex- 
quisite confusion.  "  Knack  "  went  her  knees. 

Then  the  three  explained  that  in  eight  weeks  they  were  to 
leave  Hilligenlei  and  go  south  to  the  mother;  but  as  long  as 
they  were  there  they  wanted  to  see  Anna  every  day  —  every 
single  one ;  and  would  she  go  to  the  wood  with  them  this  af ter- 


160  HOLYLAND 

noon  ?  "  There's  an  open  space  there,"  said  the  littlest  one. 
"  We'll  dance  there." 

"  You  must  put  on  very  few  clothes,"  said  the  elder  child, 
"  because  it's  very  hot,  and  you  are  to  dance." 

It  was  a  hot,  breathless  day,  the  ninth  of  September. 

They  found  the  short-grass  plot  at  the  edge  of  the  wood,  a 
spot  of  sunshine  hidden  away  in  the  dark  cavernous  circle  of 
the  twenty-year-old  pine  trees.  There  she  danced  on  the  short 
turf,  first  with  the  little  child,  then  with  the  bigger  one;  and 
then  he  asked  her  to  dance  alone;  then  to  stay  standing  as  she 
was.  And  she  did  everything  he  asked  her.  He  was  so  dear, 
so  playful  with  his  children ;  he  asked  her  so  gently,  with  such 
goodness  and  happiness  in  his  eyes,  that  her  heart  beat  fast 
under  his  gaze. 

Suddenly  he  came  up  to  her  and  said  in  a  choking  voice, 
"  Do  you  know  that  I  can  see  your  dear  limbs  through  yoifr 
dress?" 

She  looked  at  him  in  painful  confusion.  "  It  was  so  hot," 
she  said  piteously.  "  I  wanted  to  be  able  to  have  a  good  romp 
with  the  children." 

"  Do  you  know  you  are  the  most  beautiful  girl  in  the 
world?" 

She  stepped  back  toward  the  pine  trees,  looking  at  him  with 
timid  entreaty  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  mustn't.     I  mustn't." 

He  didn't  listen.     He  knew  she  loved  him. 

"  You  have  loved  me  ever  since  your  childhood.  I  have  seen 
it  in  your  eyes." 

"  I  didn't  know,"  she  murmured.  "  I  never  knew  it,  never. 
I  never  thought  of  this." 

He  did  not  press  her;  he  only  spoke  of  his  great  joy.  "  Oh, 
you!  you  are  so  brave,  so  noble.  You  are  three-and-twenty, 
and  your  wonderful  soul  and  body  are  yours  alone  —  how  won- 
derful, you  don't  know.  You  dear,  beautiful  woman."  He 
seized  her  hands.  She  let  him  take  both  hands,  looking  at  him 
still  with  timid  entreaty  in  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  breathing  hard,  "  never  shall  I  love  anyone 
as  I  love  you." 

They  went  through  the  wood,  the  hot  sun  penetrating; 
obliquely  through  the  trees,  the  children  in  front.  Her  head 
was  bent,  his  eyes  and  thoughts  were  all  for  her.  When  they 


HOLYLAND  161 

came  to  the  quiet  house,  the  children  went  into  the  garden 
with  the  maid.  He  put  his  arm  round  her  and  led  her  into  his 
room.  She  turned  to  him  in  sore  distress,  saying,  "  Dear,  tell 
me  I  am  not  doing  wrong  —  promise  me  that.  Oh!  I  cannot 
help  it  —  I  cannot  help  it.  I  never  knew  before,  but  now  I 
see.  For  a  long  time  I  have  loved  you  —  more  than  anything 
in  the  world.  To  think  that  you  —  you  love  me !  Now  I 
know.  How  I  have  longed  for  that.  Oh!  I  have  been  so  ter- 
ribly lonely.  Be  good  to  me,  help  me.  Oh!  my  darling!  " 

For  seven  weeks  the  glory  lasted  —  seven  weeks  of  joy. 
Unholy?  No;  holy.  Seven  weeks  in  the  wonderland  of  faerie, 
weeks  of  poignant  joy  and  sorrow.  For  seven  weeks  Anna 
Boje  was  a  happy,  unhappy  woman. 

She  did  not  ask  him,  "  Stay  with  me  and  let  the  other  go." 
She  did  not  say,  "  I  don't  know  how  I  am  to  live  when  you  are 
gone."  Had  she  asked  him  this,  he  would  have  acquiesced,  for 
the  wonder  of  it  was  as  great  for  him  as  it  was  for  her. 

She  did  not  ask  him  to  do  it.  She  would  not  have  accepted 
it  had  he  offered.  She  could  not  have  purchased  her  happiness 
at  the  price  of  another's  misery.  She  knew  the  day  would 
come,  come  soon,  dark  and  terrible,  when  all  her  glory  fell  in 
ruins  around  her  —  the  holy,  ah !  not  the  unholy,  glory. 

At  this  time  her  mother  said  to  Heinke,  "  What  can  have 
come  over  Anna?  She  is  affectionate  with  us,  and  talks  in  a 
way  she  has  not  done  for  years." 

"  Yes,"  said  Heinke.  "  I  have  noticed  it,  but  I  don't  know 
why  it  is." 

And  the  girls  whom  she  met  from  time  to  time  said  to  one 
another,  "  What  has  come  over  Anna  Boje?  She  is  so  gay  and 
friendly,  and  how  pretty  she  is!  " 

The  day  came. 

The  southern  physician  decided  that  the  wife  must  stay  there 
in  the  warm  valley.  The  North  Sea  air  was  too  damp  and 
strong  for  her  —  too  cold  and  salt. 

He  drew  a  deep  breath  and  looked  at  Anna.  "  Oh!  the  air 
is  fresh  and  bracing  here,  and  you  —  you  are  so  dear,  so  beau- 
tiful." 

"  You  must  go,"  said  she,  tears  starting  to  her  eyes.  "  You 
must  forget  me.  I  must  see  what  will  become  of  me." 

She  got  the  children  ready  for  the  journey.  She  could  see 
the  despair  in  his  eyes  as  she  felt,  for  the  last  time,  the  mad 


162  HOLYLAND 

fever  of  his  love.  She  saw  them  off  at  the  station,  shook  him 
by  the  hand,  and  said,  grinding  her  teeth  together:  "Kind  re- 
gards to  mother." 

Then  she  went  home  alone,  saying  to  herself  "  I  shall  never 
see  him  again." 

When  she  got  home  she  found  a  postcard  from  Kai  Jans 
with  a  brief  account  of  his  doings.  Across  the  corner  in  small 
letters  were  the  words:  "  Have  you  found  Hilligenlei?  I  have 
discovered  something  very  like  it."  Underneath  was  a  pair  of 
eyes  drawn  in  blue  ink. 

"  How  funny  of  him  to  write  to  you,"  said  Heinke;  "  he  has 
always  written  to  me  before.  What  does  that  mean  in  the 
corner?  " 

"  I  expect  he's  in  love  with  someone  with  blue  eyes,"  said 
Anna. 

Heinke  went  silently  out  into  the  garden  and  wept  under  the 
apple  tree. 

Hard  times  followed  for  the  little  house  under  the  chest- 
nuts. 

Pete  went  on  a  distant  voyage  to  Samoa,  and  his  sister  did 
not  know  or  share  his  hopes  and  plans.  Hett  went  to  an  office 
in  Kiel.  After  eight  weeks  there  he  wrote  for  the  first  time 
secretly  to  Anna,  asking  her  for  money.  She  sent  him  thirty 
shillings  from  her  savings.  He  did  not  even  thank  her.  She 
thought  "  The  lot  of  the  elder  sister  already !  Professor  Ton- 
ner's  three  daughters  stayed  at  home  toiling  and  moiling  for  the 
two  sons:  that's  how  it  will  be!  " 

It  was  twenty-five  years  since  Hella  Boje  had  danced  out 
of  her  slippers  at  Ringerang's  dance:  she  grew  grey  and  ma- 
tronly now,  and  her  heart  hardened  as  she  grieved  over  the 
absence  of  her  two  darlings.  To  Anna,  who  had  returned  to 
her  old  reserve,  she  seldom  spoke:  for  Heinke  she  had  nothing 
but  hard  words :  she  was  obstinate,  indolent,  unkind ;  and  every- 
thing she  did  only  seemed  to  make  it  worse.  Heinke,  whose 
only  faults  were  the  silent  pride  inherited  from  her  mother 
and  the  intellectual  keenness  of  her  father,  wept  many  secret 
tears,  drying  them  to  look  at  the  picture  postcards  which  Kai 
Jans  sent  her  from  Heidelberg  and  the  neighbourhood,  and  she 
kept  in  order  in  her  song-book. 

At  times  Anna  tried  to  pull  herself  together.  She  would  try 
to  make  a  dress  for  herself  or  her  sister,  but  the  long  sitting 


HOLYLAND  163 

and  the  irritating  work  annoyed  her  so,  that  she  ended  by  un- 
doing all  she  had  done  and  handing  it  over  to  the  dressmaker. 
In  the  evening  she  would  sometimes  secretly  try  to  read  her 
father's  books  up  in  her  own  room ;  but  the  lofty  pictures  they 
conjured  up  did  not  thrill  her:  she  soon  let  the  book  fall,  un- 
able to  find  the  path  to  beauty,  to  look  round  the  narrow  little 
room,  fit  background  for  her  empty  hopeless  life. 

In  the  winter  she  was  invited  to  a  girls'  party,  and  forced 
herself  to  go.  Things  went  merrily  enough.  The  younger 
girls,  up  to  about  eighteen,  among  whom  was  Heinke,  sat  in 
one  room,  telling  harmless  but  silly  stories,  and  laughing  till 
some  of  them  could  not  sit  upright.  The  elder  girls,  ranging 
up  to  eight-and-twenty,  sat  in  another  room :  they  soon  got  upon 
the  subject  of  marriage.  Those  over  five-and-twenty  did  most 
of  the  talking,  while  the  others  listened. 

'  To  be  married  to  a  nice  man  —  that's  the  best  there  is." 

"  But  there  are  not  many  nice  men." 

They  began  to  discuss  the  possible  young  men,  speaking  with 
bitter  contempt  of  seven  or  eight  who  did  not  marry  either  be- 
cause they  were  too  self-indulgent  and  lazy,  or  because  they 
were  incapable  of  it.  , 

One  girl  said  harshly :  "  Young  men  now-a-days  are  all  crip- 
ples. Marriage  gets  more  and  more  uncommon." 

"  Well,"  said  another,  "  Frieda  got  married  only  the  other 
day.  .  .  and  Gertrud." 

"  Yes,  but  then  Frieda  had  five  hundred  pounds,  and  Ger- 
trud —  well,  she  was  twenty-five,  you  know." 

"  Many  are  called  but  few  chosen." 

"  I  could  bear  not  being  married  if  it  was  because  I  was  an 
ugly  little  thing  —  but  simply  because  I  have  no  money  bags ! 
that  seems  to  me  a  scandal.  Think  of  Frieda  and  her  five 
hundred  pounds;  she's  a  perfect  skeleton!  How  could  anyone 
want  to  sleep  with  her?  " 

"  Come,  you  are  going  rather  too  far." 

"What  of  that?  Don't  the  Socialists  say  that  the  accursed 
property  system  is  coming  to  an  end?  If  people  were  only  val- 
ued for  strength  and  beauty!  I  say,  Anna  —  then  you  would 
get  a  prince  and  I  an  ear).  No  one  can  deny  that  I  am  tall  and 
strong,  or  that  my  nose  is  a  good  shape,  and  my  hair  long  and 
beautiful."  She  laughed,  plunging  both  hands  into  her  fair 
hair. 


164  HOLYLAND 

"  After  all,  most  of  us  do  marry  —  far  the  most.  Some  girls 
don't  want  to  marry  —  it  does  not  appeal  to  them." 

One  of  the  girls  laughed  —  "  Children,  I  will  tell  you  a  de- 
licious story  —  you  must  keep  it  quiet,  or  I  won't  tell  you  a 
word  more.  ...  A  few  weeks  ago  Lena  Bruhn  and  I  went  to 
Bindorf :  coming  back  we  missed  our  train  and  had  to  walk 
back  to  Hilligenlei.  However,  on  the  way  we  got  frightened, 
and  went  into  Sothbier's  inn  —  you  know,  an  old  man  with  the 
two  daughters.  Well,  the  two  girls  were  good  enough  to  give 
us  their  rooms  and  go  and  sleep  somewhere  else.  I  went  to 
sleep  —  Lena  too ;  but  about  midnight  someone  knocked  at  my 
window  —  knocked  and  knocked :  and  then  a  voice  said  '  Why 
won't  you  let  me  in?  Why  not,  girl?  What  has  come  into 
your  head  all  at  once.  Let  me  in,  I  say !  What's  the  matter  — 
you've  always  let  me;  why  won't  you  now,  all  of  a  sudden?' 
.  .  .  And  so  it  went  on  for  a  whole  hour;  and  it  happened  just 
the  same  to  Lena. 

"  Next  morning  early  we  went  into  the  kitchen.  The  two 
girls  were  standing  by  the  fire  making  the  coffee.  '  Tell  me 
one  thing,'  said  Lena ;  '  would  you  marry  if  you  could  ?  Come 
now  ?  '  They  looked  at  us  quite  shamefacedly  and  said  '  We 
don't  think  of  marrying  —  no.  I  don't  expect  we  shall.'  Yes, 
that's  how  it  is.  Of  course  I  want  to  get  married  —  everyone 
does." 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  said  another,  "  if  you  really  want  to  get 
married  you  must  look  like  the  daughter  of  the  Tonndorf  clerk : 
she  was  neither  pretty  nor  rich,  but  she  was  sharp.  She 
thought  '  If  I  stay  "  Miss  "  I  will  be  an  old  maid.'  So  she 
went  to  Hamburg  as  chambermaid  in  a  very  smart  house  and 
married  the  gardener.  Afterwards  her  sister  got  a  baker  in  the 
same  way,  and  she  has  six  children,  and  they  live  on  the  rolls 
left  over  in  the  morning,  and  are  all  as  hearty  and  healthy  as 
possible." 

"  You're  making  up  again,"  they  cried ;  "  you  never  keep  to 
the  truth." 

"  Anyhow,"  said  another,  "  I  could  only  marry  the  right  sort 
of  man  —  good  and  clever." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  they  all  cried ;  "  that's  necessary." 

"Nonsense,"  said  another,  bitterly;  "better  be  unhappily 
married  than  not  married  at  all." 


HOLYLAND  165 

The  others  disagreed.  "  Oh,  no !  Think  of  ...  and  .  .  . 
Ten  thousand  times  better  to  be  single." 

"  Yes,  but  she  has  children  of  her  own." 

"  Children  —  that  is  something!  " 

"  To  be  an  old  maid,  with  no  one  to  love,  no  one  to  care 
for." 

"  Well,  think  of  Hannah  Behrens !  She  is  a  happy  old  maid. 
Yes,  really  —  there  is  no  mistake  about  it.  She  is  thoroughly 
happy,  although  she  is  thirty-two  and  single  —  really  happy." 

Some  shrugged  their  shoulders.  "  Yes,  there  are  some  peo- 
ple like  that;  but  they  have  buttermilk  in  their  veins,  and  had 
much  better  not  marry.  We  are  not  like  that  —  better  dead 
than  live  single.  What  do  you  think,  Anna  Boje? 

"  Anna  takes  things  calmly  —  an  icy  queen." 

One  among  them,  however,  divined  the  passion  latent  in 
Anna,  and  looked  at  her  with  deep  interest.  This  was  the 
daughter  of  an  official  who,  having  from  her  childhood  shown 
a  wonderful  feeling  for  line  and  colour,  and  great  deftness  of 
hand,  had  been  sent,  at  her  mother's  encouragement,  to  the 
Polytechnic  at  Kiel.  Having  then  turned  to  photography  she 
was  now,  at  twenty-four,  manageress  and  part  owner  with  an 
art  dealer  in  a  big  town,  earning  a  good  salary.  Just  now  she 
was  paying  a  visit  to  her  home  and  sitting  among  the  friends  of 
her  childhood.  Her  keen  quiet  eyes  sought  out  Anna  Boje. 

Anna,  who  had  always  liked  her  because  she  was  sincere  and 
natural,  looked  at  her,  saying: 

"  If  one  had  a  gift  like  yours  — !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  if  one  had  had  an  independent  pro- 
fession, like  yours!" 

The  little  artist  looked  at  them,  only  saying:  "Yes.  .  .  . 
yes." 

Thereupon,  the  conversation  was  brought  to  an  end  by  a  girl 
of  twenty-eight,  a  clever,  serious-minded  girl,  who  spent  her 
time  in  nursing  an  invalid  father:  "Those  who  say  that  they 
find  complete  satisfaction  in  a  profession  are  either  lying  or 
naturally  unfitted  for  marriage.  What  good  is  a  profession  for 
the  rest  of  us?  We  don't  want  to  look  after  other  people's 
children,  to  teach  other  people's  children,  attend  to  other  peo- 
ple's business,  and  nurse  sick  people  whom  we  don't  know:  we 
want  to  love,  to  care  for,  to  suffer  for,  yes,  and  to  die  for  what 
belongs  to  us:  that's  our  Hilligenlei." 


166  HOLYLAND 

Thus  they  spoke  openly  of  their  need.  Not  one  among  them 
was  ugly.  All,  except  one,  who  was  a  little  queer,  were  fresh, 
sweet-natured,  healthy  girls. 

Silence  fell  upon  them  for  a  space.  Then  they  began  to  talk 
in  twos  and  threes,  and  gradually  grew  merry,  and  laughed 
again. 

When  Anna  Boje  got  up  to  go,  rather  sooner  than  the 
others,  the  little  artist  accompanied  her. 

"  Can't  you  still  become  a  teacher?  "  she  said  timidly. 

"I  can't  manage  it,"  said  Anna,  in  a  troubled  voice;  "I 
lose  my  temper  at  once.  I  haven't  a  single  gift  of  any  sort." 

"  You  are  sure  to  get  married,"  said  the  other  comfortingly; 
"  you're  only  twenty-three,  and  tall  and  beautiful,  and  clever. 
Who  will  get  married  if  not  you  ?  " 

Anna  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  said  bitterly :  "  No  one 
has  asked  me  yet,  not  a  single  person  —  " 

"Tilda  Peters  is  quite  right,"  continued  the  other;  a  pro- 
fession is  not  enough  to  make  us  happy.  It  may  satisfy  those 
who  are  somehow  weak  and  colourless,  but  those  who  are 
strong  long  for  a  husband  and  children.  It  is  true  they  say 
one  can  suppress  it.  .  .  ." 

"Suppress  it!"  cried  Anna,  scornfully;  "I  might  as  well 
crush  in  my  eyes  and  my  bosom !  " 

"  It  is  terrible,"  said  her  little  friend  in  a  low  tone ;  "  ter- 
rible. Many  suffer  in  silence  and  become  dulled  by  pain.  An- 
guish drives  others  to  steal  secretly  what  they  cannot  get  openly 
and  honourably.  The  power  of  the  Church  and  respectability 
used  to  be  strong  enough  to  say  '  submit,'  but  now-a-days  in 
big  towns  who  cares  for  the  Church  or  respectability?  They 
say  '  We  cannot  be  deprived  of  hearth  and  cradle.'  They  take 
their  share,  and  so,  what  ought  to  be  pure  joy  becomes  a  sin 
and  sorrow.  It  is  terribly,  terribly  hard  for  thousands  of  girls 
in  our  towns." 

Anna  looked  shyly  at  the  dark  dainty  face :  "  What  do  your 
parents  think  of  such  ideas?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "  My  father  goes  to  the  club 
every  evening,  hears  licentious  stories,  and  tells  some  of  his 
own ;  mother  was  married  at  eighteen  and  does  not  understand 
me.  And  that  is  perhaps  the  hardest  of  all.  We,  the  children 
of  a  new  age,  are  orphans." 


HOLYLAND  167 

Anna  accompanied  her  to  her  home,  and  then  pursued  her 
way  through  the  dark  streets  in  utter  despair. 

"  I  am  not  needed  at  home.  I  have  no  talent.  Must  I  go 
to  a  strange  house,  serve  strange  people,  look  on  at  their  hap- 
piness? or  do  some  dull,  monotonous  work  that  leads  to  noth- 
ing? Go  I  must.  I  am  twenty-three,  I  can't  stay  at  home  any 
longer.  Heinke  is  too  young  to  go  —  I  must." 

As  she  went  down  the  harbour  street  her  misery  grew  more 
poignant  every  moment,  and  roused  the  dark  thoughts  that 
slumbered  in  the  dim  recesses  of  her  mind,  that  slumber  in 
every  heart.  "  If  a  letter  came  from  him.  ...  a  black-edged 
letter  ...  if  she  were  dead  .  .  .  Oh,  how  happy  I  should 
be !  ...  I  should  cry  out  for  sheer  happiness !  Think  of  the 
waiting!  .  .  .  then,  then  we  should  see  each  other  again.  .  .  . 
I  should  go  and  meet  them  at  the  station!  .  .  .  How  happy  I 
shall  make  you  three!  How  you  shall  laugh  with  me!  I  shall 
be  so  sweet  and  good  to  you  —  Oh,  no  —  she  lives ;  she  is 
getting  better.  .  .  .  Oh,  if  she  were  to  die!  She  has  had  ten 
years  of  utter  joy  —  ten  long,  lovely  years  .  .  .  give  me  ten 
.  .  .  three  .  .  .  one  —  give  me  one  year;  then  I  will  gladly 
die  —  oh,  gladly.  A  year  of  joy  without  sin,  without  fear. 
.  .  .  Oh,  if  she  were  only  to  die !  " 

She  went  down  to  the  sluice,  and  stood  there  listening  to 
the  gurgling  water,  listening  to  her  own  thoughts.  "  I  am 
wicked  ...  so  wicked,  that  the  best  thing  would  be  for  me 
to  drown  myself.  I  have  no  hope  at  all.  Who  would  sorrow 
for  me,  who  would  miss  me?  My  children  sleep  within  me, 
no  one  wakes  them.  What  I  can  do,  and  what  I  want  to  do 
is  to  love  someone,  and  to  care  for  him ;  but  no  one  wants  me. 
...  I  will  wait  a  little  while.  ...  I  will."  She  looked 
across  to  the  long  house.  There  was  still  a  light  in  Rieke 
Thomson's  room.  "  I  will  know  whether  there  is  any  hope 
for  me.  I  have  mocked  before  —  cards,  what  can  they  tell ! 
.  .  .  But  when  one  is  in  such  need.  .  .  ." 

She  looked  in  front  of  her  once  more,  and  listened  to  the 
wind;  then  she  rose  and  went  up  on  to  the  dyke,  and  after 
listening  to  hear  whether  the  old  dame  were  alone,  went  along 
the  passage  and  into  the  room.  Rieke  Thomson  was  sitting 
in  her  big  chair,  and  had  just  turned  her  head  to  look  across 
the  bay  for  a  light:  she  was  stouter  even  than  of  old. 

"What!    Anna  Boje?"    said  she,  sharply;    "what  do  you 


168  HOLYLAND 

want  of  me?  "  Like  most  people,  she  could  not  bear  the  Bojes 
because  of  the  haughty  air  with  which  they  carried  their  proud 
heads. 

"  I  want  you  to  put  out  the  cards  for  me.  I  have  often 
wanted  to  come  before,  but  never  had  time,"  said  Anna  cheer- 
fully. 

"  Everyone  who  comes  says  either  '  Rieke,  I  want  just  to 
see  your  hocus  pocus,'  or  '  I  have  often  wanted  to  come  before, 
but  never  had  time.'  As  a  matter-of-fact,  everyone  who  comes 
comes  because  they  are  in  some  trouble.  An  evening  comes  to 
everyone  who  is  young  and  in  trouble,  when  they  believe  in  my 
art.  I  don't  think  there  is  a  single  girl  or  a  single  married 
woman,  gentle  or  simple,  in  Hilligenlei,  that  hasn't  been  to 
me  in  the  last  thirty  years.  Give  me  the  cards,  please  — 
there  on  the  shelf  —  no,  further  to  the  right  —  on  the  Bible. 
Give  me  the  Bible  at  the  same  time:  I  must  read  the  evening 
lesson." 

She  shuffled  the  cards  and  placed  them  slowly  in  four  rows 
on  top  of  one  another,  then  slid  her  finger  over  them.  "  Not 
much  money,"  she  said  slowly,  "  but  bread  enough  .  .  .  there 
is  a  fair  man  who  is  thinking  of  you,  but  cannot  tell  you  so 
.  .  .  there  is  something  in  the  way.  .  .  .  And  also  a  dark 
gentleman  with  a  lady  by  his  side."  She  looked  up  question- 
ingly  at  the  ripe  loveliness  by  her  side.  '  That's  all." 

Then  said  Anna,  in  an  unsteady  voice,  "  We  are  troubled 
about  my  brother  ...  he  is  far  away  at  sea  ...  far  away. 
...  I  wanted  to  know  —  there  is  no  —  no  death  ?  " 

Rieke  Thomson  looked  up  again  and  understood  it  all  from 
the  hard  glint  in  her  eyes.  This  cruel  courage  pleased  her, 
but  she  shook  her  head  and  said  honestly:  "No,  there  is  no 
death  there." 

Anna  stood  up,  laid  sixpence  on  the  table,  and  went  away. 
She  went  home  and  slept,  got  up,  and  went  on  from  day  to  day 
in  deep  depression  of  spirit.  "  In  the  autumn  I  leave  home," 
she  said ;  "  I  will  find  a  situation  in  some  family  in  Hamburg, 
and  get  Hett  to  come  to  Hamburg  too,  and  look  after  him. 
I  can  see  Pete  there  from  time  to  time,  and  be  his  friend  until 
he  marries  —  that  will  be  the  end  of  it." 

Spring  came  on  apace:  a  lovely,  sunny,  joyous  spring.  Pe 
Ontjes  Lau  came  to  Hilligenlei;  his  final  removal  delayed 
because  he  kept  accepting  good  berths  when  they  were  offered 


HOLYLAND  169 

to  him.  He  came  to  bring  Mrs.  Boje  messages  from  Pete,  who 
had  gone  to  Iquique  on  board  the  Gude  Wife,  and  reported 
that  the  improvement  which  Pete  had  invented  had  proved 
excellent,  and  he  would  probably  go  over  to  naval  engineering 
when  a  good  opening  offered.  He  then  went  away,  and  did  not 
return.  He  was  fully  occupied  in  learning  his  father's  business 
and  trying  to  discover  whether  anything  could  be  made  of  it. 
Until  he  had  decided  that  point  he  must  think  of  nothing  else. 
Anna  had  not  been  at  home;  afterwards  she  only  very  occa- 
sionally met  him  in  the  street,  and  he  merely  bowed  politely 
and  went  on  his  way.  She  looked  up  shyly,  thinking,  "  He 
doesn't  like  me.  That's  a  real  man;  but  he  doesn't  like  me; 
he  will  marry  a  farmer's  daughter  with  money." 

It  was  a  beautiful  summer,  but  the  dead  weight  of  depression 
lay  heavy  on  her.  Her  mother  and  Heinke  said  little  to  her. 

"  In  October  I  shall  go  to  Hamburg,"  she  thought.  "  I 
can  be  the  fly  on  the  wheel  somewhere:  a  telephone  clerk  or 
something  like  that.  I'm  too  stupid  for  anything  else." 

One  day  Anna  Martens  came  with  her  husband  and  her 
first  child,  able  to  walk  by  now.  There  was  something  calm 
and  dignified  about  her;  her  eyes  glowed  with  inward  happi- 
ness. She  followed  Anna  into  the  kitchen  and  said: 

"What  do  you  think  of  the  great  Mr.  Lau?  That's  the 
sort  of  man  for  you  —  calm  and  splendid." 

"  Don't  talk  nonsense,"  said  Anna,  her  eyes  bent  on  her 
work. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Anna,  "  he  isn't  good  enough  for  you  — 
you  want  a  student !  " 

"  Oh,"  said  Anna,  looking  at  her  friend  in  astonishment, 
mingled  with  bitterness,  "  how  little  you  know  about  it,  Anna! 
I  want  someone  whom  I  can  love,  someone  good  and  true  and 
strong  —  that's  all.  What  do  I  care  for  money,  or  Latin  and 
Greek?" 

At  that  time  there  was  in  the  town  a  young  man  of  good 
family  who  was  in  a  position  in  a  bank  in  Berlin  and  had  come 
home  to  be  nursed  back  to  health  by  his  parents,  having  become 
ill  through  dissipation,  or,  as  he  said,  through  work.  After 
a  few  days  he  became  bored,  and  looked  about  him  for  amuse- 
ment, which,  being  a  handsome  young  man,  and  a  lady-killer, 
he  had  no  difficulty  in  finding.  It  soon  became  matter  of 
common  knowledge  that  several  young  girls  had  yielded  them- 


i;o  HOLYLAND 

selves  to  him,  although  they  knew  that  he  had  no  thoughts  of 
marriage.  Since  the  honourable  young  men  were  indolent  or 
prudent,  their  needs  delivered  them  to  his  mercy. 

One  day  he  saw  Anna  Boje  in  the  street.  Recognising  her 
with  some  surprise,  he  addressed  her,  asked  about  Pete,  and 
formed  in  his  own  mind  the  resolution:  "  I  will  possess  Anna 
Boje;  it  will  be  wonderful  to  teach  her  the  meaning  of  love." 

Towards  evening  he  walked  up  and  down  the  lane,  and,  on 
the  third  day,  induced  her  to  come  out  to  him.  She  only 
wanted  a  man  to  show  her  that  she  was  desirable  to  him.  She 
did  not  go  to  meet  him;  but,  walking  round  the  houses,  came 
out  under  the  lime-trees  in  the  park.  He  stood  there  where 
the  paths  diverged  at  the  opening  of  the  avenue,  waiting  for  her. 
It  was  very  dark. 

"  Anna  Boje!  "  said  he,  with  a  laugh,  approaching  her.  She 
turned  round  and  pushed  out  her  hands  so  as  to  send  him 
staggering  back.  Then,  with  a  few  words  of  burning  indigna- 
tion, she  left  him. 

In  the  excitement  of  her  feelings  she  went  out  of  the  town 
up  to  the  three  paths.  The  evening  was  mild  and  beautiful. 
Above  the  dark  houses  of  Volkmersdorf  to  one  side  of  the  sum- 
mit the  moon  rose  calmly,  casting  her  peaceful  light  over  the 
night.  She  walked  slowly,  still  trembling  in  every  limb. 
"  Oh,  however  much  I  long  for  it  ...  even  if  I  had  wanted 
to  ...  I  could  not  have  done  it.  The  others  have  done  it. 
I  cannot.  Ugh !  how  he  took  hold  of  me !  " 

In  the  deep  grass  stood  the  big  red  cows,  slowly  tearing  the 
grass  as  they  ate.  Under  the  second  path  the  water  glinted; 
under  the  third  it  ran  audibly  down  in  the  valley  beneath. 
Once  more  she  came  back  to  the  perpetual  subject  of  her 
thoughts.  "Why  must  I  be  lonely  —  without  love?  Am  I 
to  be  lonely  always  ?  "  She  began  to  brood  over  it,  thinking 
gloomily  that  the  fault  lay  in  her,  that  she  was  joyless  because 
her  character  was  peculiar  and  disagreeable.  Perhaps  there 
was  something  in  her  parents'  past  which  caused  people  to 
look  upon  her  with  secret  contempt.  She  came  to  the  bottom 
of  the  ascent,  and  went  slowly  up.  To  the  right  and  left  of 
her  were  the  sheaves  of  rye;  higher  up  the  soil  was  broken  up 
for  the  new  seed.  The  air  was  heavy  with  fruition.  The  bit- 
terness in  her  soul  rose  up  and  darkened  everything.  "  How 
hateful  all  this  growth  and  blossoming  is,  all  this  fruit  bear- 


HOLYLAND  171 

ing,"  she  thought,  "  how  repulsive.  I  won't  blossom  and  bear 
fruit  —  no.  I  will  be  buried  eight  feet  deep  in  the  earth,  so 
that  I  can  be  no  use  even  when  I  am  dead  —  or  else  a  flower 
or  a  tree  might  spring  up  out  of  me.  Oh!  the  idea  is  hateful." 

She  came  out  on  to  the  heath  and  walked  upon  the  soft, 
springing  ground.  Beneath  her  in  the  blue  haze  of  a  July 
night  lay  the  wide  plain.  She  turned  aside  from  the  path,  and 
sat  down  wearily  on  the  wall,  and,  as  she  gazed  over  the  beau- 
tiful peace  of  the  wide  landscape  stretched  out  before  her,  she 
became  more  calm  and  gentle.  Her  thoughts  flew  back  to  the 
hours  of  her  wonderful,  fearful  happiness.  "  Once  you  have 
been  happy :  a  good  and  glorious  man  has  loved  you  once.  Oh, 
yes,  how  he  loved,  how  his  eyes  used  to  shine,  how  his  words 
glowed.  What  agony  parting  was  to  him:  no,  nothing  in  the 
world  can  blot  that  out  of  my  life."  She  began  to  go  through 
the  different  scenes  in  her  mind:  the  beginning  in  the  lane 
.  .  .  and  so  sat  thinking  and  dreaming.  She  lost  all  sense  of 
reality,  and  fell  into  a  kind  of  waking  sleep.  The  heath 
spread  out  dark  and  wide,  and  beyond  and  below  the  grey 
darkness  of  the  land  stretched  out  to  meet  the  sea.  Across  the 
heath,  from  the  wide,  boundless  distance,  came  a  wondrous 
being,  like  a  bright-coloured,  heavy  cow,  with  beautiful  curl- 
ing horns  and  monstrous  ears,  and  huge,  moist  shining  eyes. 
It  stood  before  her  and  looked  thoughtfully  at  her.  And 
she  dreamed  she  was  walking  along  the  lane,  and  lost  her 
clothes,  one  after  another,  till  she  was  quite  naked ;  and  her 
three  friends  stood  there  weeping  to  see  her  in  such  a  state. 
Then  from  a  side  road  came  the  mayor,  whom  she  hated  since 
she  was  a  child,  because  he  always  looked  at  her  as  much  as 
to  say:  "The  teacher's  widow's  poor  daughter."  And  with 
him  came  the  man  she  had  rebuffed,  and  they  looked  at  her 
and  laughed,  and  their  laughter  terrified  her  so  that  she  fell 
down  and  lay  as  one  dead.  Then  —  it  was  no  longer  in  the 
lane,  but  on  the  high  road  outside  the  town  —  the  town  scav- 
enger, Jochen  Wenig,  came  from  another  side  road  to  carry 
her  off  into  his  hut.  In  her  horror  she  cried  out,  and  awoke. 

Looking  round  her  in  terror  she  began  confusedly  to  repeat 
prayers  and  texts  which  she  had  learnt  at  school  j  and  got  up 
stiffly  to  her  feet. 

A  man  came  towards  her,  groaning  and  breathing  heavily, 
and  said  in  a  loud  voice:  "Who's  here?  What's  the  matter? 


172  HOLYLAND 

Who's  worrying  herself  in  this  way?  You  —  is  it  you,  my 
child  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  me,  Uncle  Wedderkop,"  said  Anna. 

"  My  child,"  he  said,  his  voice  suddenly  becoming  quite  soft 
and  sympathetic;  "why  are  you  crying  in  this  piteous  way? 
Has  anyone  hurt  you  in  any  way  ?  Come  —  come,  let's  go 
away  together.  Only  don't  cry  so  —  don't  cry." 

"  I  am  so  fearfully  lonely,"  she  cried,  sobbing  pitiably,  "  so 
fearfully  deserted." 

For  a  time  he  walked  by  her  side  in  silence.  Then  he  said, 
"  Convention  is  the  cause  of  your  suffering.  Conventional 
respectability  is  a  murderer:  it  is  destroying  your  youth  and 
the  youth  of  many  of  your  sisters.  Think  —  if  we  lived  under 
natural  conditions  you  would,  from  your  childhood  up,  always 
have  been  surrounded  by  young  people  of  the  other  sex ;  one 
wrould  have  been  your  friend,  another  would  have  honoured  you 
from  a  distance,  a  third  would  have  played  happily  with  you. 
This  sunny  wind-swept  height  might  have  been  the  playground 
of  the  young  people  of  Hilligenlei.  Three  or  four  or  more, 
the  best  in  all  the  country  round,  would  have  sued  eagerly  for 
your  love  from  the  time  you  were  twenty,  because  of  your 
beauty  and  your  chastity,  and,  amid  much  wrangling  and  weep- 
ing, playing  and  kissing,  you  would  have  become  a  woman. 
And  that's  how  it  still  is  among  the  children  of  labourers  and 
artisans.  A  labourer's  child,  if  she  is  chaste  and  beautiful,  has 
wooers  enough.  But,  in  the  so-called  educated  classes,  con- 
vention has  perverted  and  destroyed  what  was  naturally  beauti- 
ful. Convention  says  to  a  young  girl :  '  You  mustn't  go  for 
a  walk  alone  with  a  young  man;  you  mustn't  call  him  by  his 
Christian  name;  you  mustn't  kiss  him  unless  you  are  going 
to  marry  him ;  you  must  have  so-and-so  r^uch  dowry.'  And 
it  says  to  the  young  man :  '  You  mustn't  marry  without  money 
—  your  income  is  too  small.  You  must  expend  the  flower  of 
your  manhood  on  fallen  women,  and  marry  late.  You  will  es- 
cape responsibility  if  you  remain  single.'  And  so,  wherever  the 
young  men  and  women  are,  convention  follows  them  like  a 
cantankerous  old  aunt,  robbing  you  girls  of  the  best  time  of 
your  lives,  so  that  many  never  marry,  and  many  don't  marry 
till  too  late.  Little  one,  you  are  not  despised ;  no  one  despises 
you  —  you  must  never  think  that ;  only,  like  thousands  of 
others,  you  are  sacrificed  to  a  cruel,  pernicious  convention, 


HOLYLAND  173 

What  help  is  there?  One  individual  cannot  do  much.  You 
women  must  do  it  yourselves.  One  thing  I  say  to  you,  my 
dear  girl,  and  don't  forget  it:  if  you  marry  and  are  happy  in 
your  home,  and  in  having  someone  to  love  and  to  care  for,  then 
do  not  forget  your  dear  sisters  sitting  alone  as  you  are  now, 
longing  for  the  fulfilment  of  their  woman's  destiny,  a  home  to 
love,  filled  with  children's  tears  and  laughter.  Work  in  some 
way  to  help  the  young  women  of  our  country." 

Anna  had  listened  attentively,  and  the  kind  words  soothed 
her.  The  moon  looked  down  peacefully  over  the  silent  world. 

"  Years  ago,"  she  said  softly,  "  I  did  something  that  is  con- 
sidered a  sin;  but  I  loved  him  beyond  everything.  I  cannot 
speak  of  it  to  anyone." 

"  Is  it  over  now?  " 

"Yes,  quite  over;   he  is  far  away." 

"  Was  he  good  to  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  so  good,"  she  said.  "  But  he  could  not  help  me  or 
himself  ...  he  could  not  be  false  to  an  old  bond,  and  I  could 
not  be  happy  at  the  cost  of  someone  else's  misery." 

"  Nature  is  stronger  than  convention,"  he  said.  "  Thank 
God  for  that;  and  love  is  mightier  than  death,  for  which 
thank  Him  too." 

"  God  ?  "  she  said  in  a  low  sad  tone ;  "  when  I  was  a  child 
I  remember  being  dreadfully  distressed  because  I  had  left  one 
person  of  the  Trinity  out  of  my  evening  prayers  .  .  .  now  the 
Trinity  means  nothing  to  me  —  nothing.  I  have  no  faith,  and 
that  is  sad." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  reflectively,  "  it  is  sad.  But  I  cannot  help 
you  there.  I  have  none  either.  I  also  have  no  Hilligenlei,  no 
Holyland  for  my  soul.  I  cannot  accept  the  faith  of  the  Church 
or  find  another  of  my  own." 

She  drew  a  deep  breath  and  said: 

"  You  have  done  me  good.  Uncle  Wedderkop.  I  have 
longed  so  terribly,  for  such  a  long  while,  to  hear  a  friendly 
word."  Then  she  added  hesitatingly,  in  a  low  voice:  "But 
if  I  don't  get  married,  I  don't  know  what  I  shall  do  with  my 
life." 

He  looked  at  her  sideways,  with  rather  a  roguish  expres- 
sion, and  said:  "Come,  Antje;  you're  only  twenty-three; 
hasn't  your  mirror  told  you  what  you  look  like?  It  may  be 


1/4  HOLYLAND 

a  year,  or  two,  or  even  three,  but  —  the  man  will  come,  a  fine, 
serious  man,  who  wants  you." 

"  No  one  dares  to  come  near  me,"  she  said,  breathing  quick 
again. 

He  laughed.  "  No  coward  would  venture ;  but  it  would 
be  no  good  if  he  did.  He  will  be  a  real  man,  and  one  who 
knows  his  own  worth.  That's  why  you  have  to  wait  so  long." 

The  streets  were  quiet;  the  moonlight  lay  upon  them  cold 
and  grey.  "  I  will  trust  for  a  while  then,"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "don't  despair.     Hope  for  Hilligenlei! " 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

BY  autumn  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  was  assured  that  his  business  was 
going  to  be  a  success.  He  gave  up  managing  the  smacks  him- 
self, extended  his  shed,  and  built  a  vane  on  the  top,  which,  in 
spite  of  all  his  oiling,  creaked  unpleasantly  all  day  long.  As 
soon  as  the  news  reached  the  club  they  cried :  "  It  will  go 
wrong;  it's  sure  to  go  wrong;  such  a  thing  is  impossible  in 
Hilligenlei." 

But  Pe  Ontjes  knew  that  he  had  now  got  a  business  that 
would  make  him  happy  and  support  a  wife  and  children.  So 
he  lifted  up  his  head,  and  went  to  look  for  Anna  Boje.  Up 
to  now  he  had  compelled  his  eyes  to  look  at  nothing  but  maize 
and  barley  sacks,  or  the  keen-eyed  farmers;  now  he  lifted  up 
his  head  and  looked  about  him.  And  there  is  never  any  doubt 
or  hesitation  when  Peter  Ontjes  Lau,  formerly  the  magnificent 
mate  of  the  Gude  Wife,  now  corn-dealer,  lifts  his  head.  Well, 
he  lifted  his  head  with  its  short  fair  beard,  and  looked  about 
him.  Where  is  Anna  Boje? 

One  misty  evening  in  October  her  mother  came  into  the 
kitchen  and  said,  "  First  mate  Lau  passed  a  minute  ago  and 
knocked  at  the  window  to  ask  where  you  were;  he  had  not 
seen  you  for  a  long  time." 

Anna  looked  up  from  her  work,  saying  crossly :  "  What  is 
Lau  to  me?  " 

"Child,  what  is  the  matter?"  said  her  mother  much 
troubled.  "  There  is  nothing  wrong  in  it." 

"  He  never  troubled  about  me  before.  What  does  he 
want?" 

But  when  she  had  washed  up  after  supper  a  strange  con- 
fusion of  feelings  drove  her  out  into  the  dark  evening.  Curi- 
osity, ardent  and  joyful  desire,  restless  anger,  all  had  share  in 
it.  She  went  out  by  the  kitchen  door  along  the  lane  up  to  the 
long  house  on  the  dyke.  He  followed  her. 

"  Hallo,  Anna  Boje!  "  he  said,  with  all  his  old  serenity  of 


i;6  HOLYLAND 

manner.  "  Well  met !  I  was  going  up  to  the  pierhead  to  see 
whether  there  are  any  signs  of  the  smack." 

She  went  with  him,  and  he  asked  after  Heinke  and  Hett. 
She  said  how  glad  his  mother  must  be  to  have  him  in  Hilli- 
genlei,  and  how  her  mother  longed  to  have  Pete  safe  on  shore. 
He  inquired  how  she  spent  the  day;  she  must  have  enough  to 
do,  now  that  her  mother  sat  all  day  at  the  machine.  She  said 
that  after  the  harvest  festival  she  meant  to  look  for  a  situation 
—  in  Hamburg,  if  possible.  Such  circumspect  conversation 
occupied  them  until  they  had  reached  the  pier,  and  turned  back 
again.  Then  there  came  a  silence. 

"  If  you  were  agreeable  —  "  he  began  —  he  tried,  without 
success,  to  say  it  offhand,  but  the  tone  of  his  voice  was  quite 
changed  — "  if  you  were  agreeable,  I  should  like  to  take  a 
walk  like  this  another  time  with  you.  Will  you  ?  " 

There  was  an  apple  in  her  throat;  she  said  slowly,  in  a 
choking  voice:  "Why  haven't  you  taken  any  notice  of  me  all 
this  time?  You  never  came  that  time  in  Hamburg,  either." 

"  That  time  in  Hamburg  I  couldn't  come.  Afterwards  I 
have  always  been  thinking  of  the  business.  I  am  the  sort  of 
man  that  likes  to  feel  the  ground  firm  beneath  his  feet  before 
doing  anything  new,"  he  said  with  proud  composure. 

"  Yes,"  said  she  angrily,  "  that's  what  you  are,  that's  what 
you  have  always  been  .  .  .  you  have  always  thought  an  eel, 
or  a  rope,  or  a  sack  of  maize  more  important  than  a  living 
human  being." 

"That's  not  true,"  he  said,  in  some  anger;  "you  have  no 
right  to  say  that." 

"  If  it  were  not  so,  you  wouldn't  have  grudged  me  a  friendly 
word  in  all  this  time." 

"  It's  a  pity,"  said  he,  "  that  you  are  so  touchy  —  your  own 
mother  complains  of  it." 

"  I  am  not  touchy,"  she  said,  angrily;  "  everybody  is  unjust 
in  saying  that  —  and  you,  of  course,  would  be  one.  You  were 
the  first  of  all.  When  I  was  a  tiny  girl  you  were  hard  on  me. 
You  are  proud;  yes,  you  are.  You  always  want  to  keep  me 
down.  You  always  want  to  show  that  you  are  somebody,  you 
have  something,  and  I  am  nobody  and  have  nothing,  and  ought 
to  be  glad  when  the  lord  comes  and  drops  me  a  word !  " 

He  laughed  in  some  annoyance,  without  quite  knowing  what 


HOLYLAND  177 

to  say.  She  went  a  few  steps  further  by  his  side,  then  hasten- 
ing her  pace  disappeared  into  the  darkness. 

Reaching  home  she  went  straight  up  to  her  room  and  went 
to  bed,  working  herself  up  into  a  state  of  ever  increasing  anger 
and  despair.  The  west  wind  blew  gently  at  the  door  and  at 
the  window,  and  she  lay  listening  to  it.  Soon  she  rose,  and 
with  rapid  fingers  undid  her  yellow  coils;  then  throwing 
herself  wildly  down  again,  she  buried  her  head  in  the  waves. 
"  Oh,  if  he  were  to  come!  If  he  could  see  me  now  .  .  .  and 
it  tortured  him.  I  know  I  am  beautiful  and  —  and  I  know  I 
can  make  a  man  happy." 

The  west  wind  pressed  softly  against  the  door.  Now  not 
only  the  wind:  the  latch  clicked. 

"  Anna,"  he  said,  calmly;  "  I  would  so  gladly  be  friends  with 
you.  Anna  .  .  .  speak  kindly." 

She  lay  still,  only  moving  her  white  shoulders  a  little. 
"  What  am  I  to  say?  I  am  proud,  senselessly  touchy  —  I  don't 
even  realize  that  I  am  a  poor  teacher's  daughter,  although 
everyone  knows  it." 

"  You  are  mad,"  he  said,  standing  up;  "  there  is  no  use  talk- 
ing to  you." 

He  was  gone. 

When  her  mother  came  into  the  kitchen  next  morning,  and 
saw  her  daughter's  set,  distorted  face,  she  was  troubled,  and 
said:  "Can  you  not  get  on  with  Pe  Ontjes?  He  is  such  a 
fine  good  fellow.  Oh,  my  .child,  my  child !  don't  harden  your 
heart.  Afterwards  it  will  break  like  glass  and  you  will  suffer 
when  it  is  too  late." 

Anna  roused  herself  from  her  gloomy  dreams  to  say  "  Be 
silent;  I  can't  bear  it." 

In  the  afternoon,  when  her  mother  was  sitting  alone  at  the 
machine  Pe  Ontjes  came  in  and  sat  down  beside  her.  "  Aunt 
Boje,  Anna  and  I  are  fond  of  one  another;  but  we  cannot 
manage  to  come  to  an  agreement  at  all." 

"  Pe  Ontjes,"  she  said,  "  you  know  how  glad  I  should  be 
if  you  could.  Don't  be  angry  with  her.  You  might  have  asked 
after  her  once  all  the  time  that  you  have  been  here;  she  has 
always  been  fond  of  you." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  thoughtfully.  Then  he  raised  his  head  and 
said,  "  I  don't  think  there's  any  way  out  of  it  except  for  us 
to  be  yoked  together  like  two  recalcitrant  calves,  so  that  we 


1 78  HOLYLAND 

are  forced  to  talk  things  out,  do  you  know,  for  six  or  ten  hours 
together.  You  can't  go  on  quarrelling  all  that  time;  you  can 
talk  things  over  properly  then." 

Hella  Boje  once  more  sadly  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  think 
we  can  do  that,"  she  said. 

"  I  thought  of  taking  the  old  smack  to  Cuxhaven  myself  this 
evening.  I  have  sold  it  to  a  man  there.  She  might  come 
too." 

Hella  Boje  once  more  sadly  shook  her  head.  "  I  don't  think 
she  will,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  tell  you  what.  Send  her  to  the  pier  about 
nine  this  evening  with  a  parcel  of  washing  or  something  for 
Hett,  or  Pete  —  the  Gude  Wife  comes  into  Hamburg  this 
evening  —  will  you?" 

"  I'll  see  what  I  can  do,"  she  said.  "  Go  now;  I'll  do  what 
I  can." 

Very  fortunately  Anna  spent  Monday  in  Friestadt  with 
Anna  Martens,  her  only  friend,  and  confessed  to  her  the  whole 
of  her  intercourse  with  Mate  Lau,  secretly  hoping  to  be 
scolded,  in  which  she  was  not  disappointed. 

Anna  Marten  had  said,  "  I  have  three  things  to  say  to  you, 
Anna.  Firstly,  if  he  wants  you  for  his  wife  he  can't  think 
very  ill  of  your  character.  Secondly,  you  are  proud  and 
touchy,  Anna.  Thirdly,  if  you  do  not  come  to  an  understand- 
ing with  him  you  will  turn  to  ice,  for  you  love  him  terribly." 
Therefore  when  Anna  came  home,  after  supper,  about  eight 
o'clock,  her  mind  had  been  illuminated  by  this  very  plain 
speaking  on  the  part  of  Anna  Martens. 

Her  mother  said,  "  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  has  been  here,  dear.  He's 
sailing  for  Cuxhaven  in  the  smack  about  nine,  and  offered  to 
take  anything  I  had  for  the  boys.  I  have  wrapped  up  some 
cakes  for  Hett,  he's  so  fond  of  them  —  and  Pe  Ontjes  said  it 
would  be  best  if  you  would  take  the  parcel  aboard  yourself.  I 
expect  he  would  like  to  take  you  to  Cuxhaven." 

She  said  no  more,  but  shut  the  door  softly  thinking,  "  Now 
she  must  do  as  she  pleases ;  may  God  help  her !  " 

Anna  went  up  to  her  room,  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  her  bed, 
and  drew  a  deep  breath.  "  I  will  go  with  him.  I  will  go  with 
him.  Oh,  how  glad  I  am  that  he  is  not  angry!  how  glad.  If 
he  is  good  to  me  I  shall  be  unspeakably  glad;  so  glad  that  he 
will  wonder  at  me.  But  if  I  see  that  we  cannot  manage  it, 


HOLYLAND  179 

then  there  is  nothing  in  the  world  for  me."  She  got  up, 
looked  about  her,  and  thought,  "  I  will  wash." 

She  fetched  the  shallow  wooden  tub  that  leant  against  the 
wall  outside  into  her  room,  and  poured  three  pailfuls  of  water 
into  it;  shut  the  door,  drew  down  the  blind,  and,  taking  off 
all  her  clothes,  knelt  down  in  front  of  the  tub  and  began  to 
wash  herself  with  a  serious  face.  As  she  washed  her  neck  and 
her  beautiful  shoulders  she  thought  "  The  mud  stuck  there 
which  they  threw  at  me  under  his  eyes  on  the  sandbank.  I 
was  a  child  then.  What  has  become  of  my  shoulders  and  of 
my  soul  since  then  ?  Will  he  put  his  arms  round  —  the  big 
horrid  boy." 

She  washed  her  plump  white  arms,  thinking  "  Would  you 
rather  play  with  the  waves  or  with  Pe  Ontjes  Lau?  Oh,  Pe 
Ontjes  Lau  —  rather!  " 

A  faint  smile  crossed  her  face  as  she  wondered  what  he 
would  be  like,  whether  he  would  keep  that  serene  calm,  that 
cool  condescension  of  manner  —  a  smile  like  the  passage  of  a 
light  cloud  above  a  dark  pinewood,  lighting  up  its  dark  recesses. 
She  washed  her  beautiful  soft  body,  without  a  mark  or  a  crease, 
for  it  had  never  been  tightly  laced.  "  No  one  has  seen  my 
body  since  the  last  time  my  mother  bathed  me.  I  have  always 
bathed  alone  since  at  the  edge  of  the  meadow.  No  one  has 
seen  it  —  no  one.  Whom  does  it  concern  ?  Does  it  concern 
Pe  Ontjes  Lau?  I  am  not  answerable  to  anyone  for  what  I 
do  with  my  body  —  I  am  free,  full  grown.  Have  I  ever  de- 
based it?  ever  made  it  unclean?  ever  done  anything  impure 
or  unnatural?  No;  I  have  nothing  to  reproach  myself  with." 

She  washed  her  beautiful  straight  legs  down  to  the  knees, 
looking  thoughtfully  at  a  white  scar  on  the  inside  curve  above 
the  knee.  Once,  when  she  was  between  twelve  and  thirteen, 
she  had  had  a  childish  passion  for  a  merry,  good-looking  young 
fellow  on  neighbour  Marten's  farm,  and  when  he  was  working 
with  the  horses  in  the  field  she  used  to  make  him  get  off  and 
mount  her  straddle-legs  on  the  horse.  One  day,  at  the  time 
of  the  wheat  harvest,  the  four-year-old  mare  on  which  she  was 
mounted  refused  to  pull ;  a  thunder-storm  was  threatening, 
and  the  man  in  angry  impatience  tried  to  strike  at  it  with  his 
pitchfork.  As  he  was  in  the  act,  however,  the  mare  swerved, 
and  one  prong  of  the  fork  went  right  into  the  child's  leg 
through  her  clothes.  Terrified  he  examined  the  place,  staunched 


i8o  HOLYLAND 

the  blood  with  his  lips,  and  fetched  water  from  the  ditch,  shak- 
ing his  head  and  saying  "  Poor  little  pet,  poor  little  pet." 
When  her  mother  discovered  the  bloodstains  on  her  garments, 
and  inquired  after  the  cause,  she  said  she  had  fallen  on  a  nail, 
so  as  not  to  betray  him.  Something  of  the  old  feeling  came 
back  as  she  looked  at  the  scar  and  thought,  "  I  have  never  told 
anyone  that  little  tale;  how  lovely  to  have  a  good  man  as  a 
real  friend."  Her  face  softened  and  her  eyes  shone.  "  How 
lovely  to  be  close  to  him  and  show  him  the  scar;  and  he  will 
stroke  it  and  laugh,  and  tease  me  —  how  wonderful!  "  Last  of 
all  she  washed  her  feet,  finely  set  on  slender  ankles,  neither  too 
large  nor  too  small.  "  When  I  was  a  child  they  ran  far  out 
into  the  shallows,  sometimes  we  would  stop  and  look  at  the 
print  they  made,  every  toe  and  every  curve  so  clearly  marked 
in  the  soft  sand.  Yes,  then  you  ran  off  on  all  sorts  of  childish 
pleasures,  away  from  Pe  Ontjes;  now  you  are  running  back 
to  him  —  poor  runners ;  you've  got  to  do  what  I  want !  " 
Again  she  laughed  softly,  and  a  wave  of  blood  overspread  her 
face.  "  Don't  tell  .  .  .  but  I  want  to  run  to  Pe  Ontjes.  Oh, 
I  think  I  am  too  happy."  She  went  and  knelt  down  in  front 
of  the  chest  of  drawers  singing  softly ;  out  of  tune  —  for  none 
of  the  Bojes  could  sing  —  but  it  pleased  her.  First  of  all  she 
took  out  and  put  on  a  soft  woollen  chemise,  then  the  linen  one 
from  the  very  bottom  of  the  drawer.  Three  years  ago,  when 
she  was  twenty-one,  her  mother  had  made  it  of  fine  linen  with 
her  own  hands,  and  made  a  delicate  edging  of  lace  round  the 
neck.  She  had  not  said  a  word  about  it,  but  one  day  when 
Anna  was  arranging  her  chest  she  found  it,  and  knowing  at 
once  for  what  her  mother  had  intended  it,  she  had  put  it  away 
right  at  the  bottom  and  not  said  a  word  about  it.  Now  she 
took  it  and  put  it  on  while  she  knelt,  buttoning  it  on  the  left 
shoulder,  and  smoothing  it  down  in  front.  Then  she  did  her 
hair.  First  she  unpinned  and  uncoiled  it,  and  let  it  fall  so  that 
it  shone  like  a  golden  thatch;  then  combed  and  plaited  it, 
glancing  from  time  to  time  in  the  mirror,  regarding  the  work 
of  her  hands  with  that  mixture  of  doubt  and  satisfaction  with 
which  the  female  fox  watches  its  children  at  play  in  the  morn- 
ing. She  coiled  the  plaits  round  back  of  her  head,  drew  her 
hair  a  little  down  over  her  temples  in  front,  and  nodded  her 
head  twice,  "  Ready."  Then  she  drew  on  her  tight-fitting 
bodice  of  white  linen,  and  buttoned  on  to  it  two  pairs  of 


HOLYLAND  181 

knickerbockers,  one  of  thin  white  cotton,  the  other  of  soft, 
warm  wool  —  it  being  November,  and  cold  —  and  over  all  her 
dress  —  the  only  pretty  one  she  possessed  —  blue,  quite  plain, 
except  for  a  slight  fulness  in  front,  and  made  in  one  piece  with 
a  belt  at  the  waist.  It  was  so  loose  that  when  she  raised  her 
shoulders  she  lifted  all  her  garments.  Next  she  put  on  her  hat, 
a  fairly  large,  brown  felt  with  a  wavy  brim,  prettily  trimmed 
with  brown  velvet  ribbon,  and  her  loose,  grey  jacket.  Then, 
last  of  all  she  took  down  the  big  cloak  which  Anna  Martens 
had  left  hanging  in  her  room.  It  really  belonged  to  her  hus- 
band, but  Anna  wore  it  sometimes  when  she  drove  to  Hilligen- 
lei  in  cold  or  wet  weather.  Anna  put  it  on  now,  smiling. 
"  Well,  Anna  Martens,  when  I  come  back  you  can  ask  your 
coat  to  tell  you  its  experiences." 

She  stood  at  the  door,  in  her  vigorous  beauty,  to  look  back 
once.  Then,  going  down,  took  the  parcel  from  the  table,  and 
calling  out  in  the  passage  "  I'm  off!  "  went  out. 

When  she  came  to  the  pier,  there  in  the  darkness  stood  a 
tallish  man  in  seafaring  clothes  with  oilskins  over  his  arm, 
waiting.  Thinking  he  was  Pe  Ontjes,  she  cried  out  from  afar 
off,  "  I  am  bringing  the  parcel."  But  it  was  Kai  Jans. 
"  Where  have  you  sprung  from?  "  said  she. 

"  From  Berlin,"  he  said.  "  I  came  yesterday.  I  am  going 
to  sail  to  Cuxhaven  with  my  old  mate  Pe  Ontjes.  W7hat  else 
am  I  to  do  with  the  time?  " 

"  Well,"  said  she,  "  you  can  take  this  parcel  for  Hett.  He 
is  in  Hamburg  now." 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said,  like  a  spoiled  child,  "  I 
don't  like  that.  You  must  do  it  yourself.  Come,  I'll  bring 
you  on  board." 

"You'll  bring  me  back  immediately?" 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  taking  hold  of  the  oars.  "  What  do 
you  suppose?  I  am  no  buccaneer,  like  Wieben  Peters." 

It  made  her  happy  to  know  that  these  two  big  men  made 
much  of  her,  and  told  such  quaint  lies  for  her  sake.  She  said, 
"  You  wrote  to  Heinke  that  you  were  not  working  very  hard 
in  Berlin.  And  you're  not  a  student.  What  do  you  do, 
then?" 

"  I  devour  life." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  said  jestingly. 

"  For  the  last  three  years  I've  put  away  all  my  brooding. 


182  HOLYLAND 

I  live  and  see.  It's  a  huge  thing,  don't  you  know,  to  have 
come  from  the  narrow  life  on  the  ship,  from  the  stuffy  books 
in  Hilligenlei,  out  into  the  big,  bright,  moving  world!  My 
eyes  go  like  saucers." 

"And  work?" 

"  Oh !  "  he  said.  "  I  haven't  done  very  much  yet,  but  when 
once  I  do  begin  it  will  go  all  right.  I  shall  pass  my  examina- 
tion, never  fear,  when  the  time  comes.  I  should  do  that  for 
the  old  man's  sake,  anyhow,"  he  continued  in  a  more  serious 
tone. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  "  but  it  seems  to  me  you're  not 
the  right  kind  of  a  person  to  be  a  clergyman.  You're  much 
too  light-headed  and  cheerful  for  it." 

"  You  don't  understand,  child.  It  is  just  cheerful  people 
that  are  wanted  now." 

"By  whom?" 

"  By  God." 

"Oh,  how  you  talk!" 

"  Never  mind.  Give  me  your  hand.  The  great  mate  isn't 
there  yet." 

At  that  moment,  however,  he  came  aft.  She  drew  back  the 
hand  she  had  given  to  Kai  Jans  and  said  in  her  clear  voice, 
"  Will  you  both  promise  to  be  good  and  polite  to  me,  because 
then  I  will  come  to  Cuxhaven  with  you." 

"  Girl,"  cried  Pe  Ontjes  Lau,  "  come  here  quickly.  Bo'sun, 
up  with  the  mainsail." 

Kai  Jans  went  quickly  forward. 

"  Anna,"  said  Pe  Ontjes  in  a  low  voice,  "  this  is  sweet  of 
you!  Put  on  your  coat,  now.  It's  cold  enough,  and  raining 
into  the  bargain.  Are  you  warmly  clad  ?  I've  brought 
mother's  wrapper  with  me."  He  fastened  the  coat  in  front  for 
her,  and,  taking  her  by  both  arms,  pushed  her  down  into  a 
seat  by  the  rudder.  "  So !  Sit  there  and  hold  the  rudder  for 
a  moment." 

He  went  to  Kai  and  the  boy,  and  they  soon  got  up  the  sails. 
The  boat  sailed  slowly  down  stream.  Then  he  came  back, 
Kai  Jans  remaining  forward  with  the  boy. 

"  The  Gude  Wife  is  signalled,"  he  said,  taking  hold  of  the 
tiller.  "  She  comes  into  the  Elbe  to-day  or  to-morrow." 

"Oh!  how  lovely!"  she  said.  "Perhaps  I  can  meet  him 
and  go  home  with  him." 


HOLYLAND  183 

"And  me!"  said  he. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  not  unkindly,  though  her  lips  trembled, 
"  if  you  care  to  go  with  a  person  like  me." 

He  laid  his  hand  quickly  upon  her  two,  which  lay  in  her  lap, 
pressed  them  and  let  them  go.  "  I  have  told  father  to  let  your 
mother  know  about  the  Gude  Wife  this  evening." 

'  That  is  nice  of  you  —  very." 

"  Tell  me,  is  Heinke  like  you  in  character  as  well  ?  She  is 
like  you  to  look  at,  except  that  her  hair  and  eyes  are  rather 
darker  —  a  pretty,  slender  girl.  She  writes  to  Kai  Jans  — 
beginning  early." 

"  It's  only  play,"  said  she.  "  Kai  is  always  so  much  inter- 
ested in  individuals  —  that's  what  it  is.  She  is  a  clever  girl, 
that's  why  he  likes  her.  By  the  bye,  I  don't  think  your  boat- 
swain works  very  hard." 

"Oh!  that  doesn't  matter.  You're  rather  worried  about 
Hett,  aren't  you?  " 

"  Oh,  no!  "  she  said,  calmly.     "  He  is  getting  on  well." 

They  were  all  worried  about  Hett  —  mother,  Anna,  Pete, 
even  Heinke;  but  the  Bojes  were  far  too  proud  to  confess  as 
much  to  others,  even  to  the  great  Pe  Ontjes. 

"  Well,"  he  said  quickly,  "  one  would  expect  that.  The  boy 
ought  to  be  decent,  with  such  parents  and  such  brothers  and 
sisters!  You're  all  magnificent,  but  the  best  and  most  beauti- 
ful of  all  the  Boje  children  is  the  eldest." 

She  was  silent. 

He  went  on,  hesitatingly,  "  If  we  come  to  Pe  Ontjes,  he 
considers  himself  a  good,  honest  fellow,  take  it  all  in  all,  but 
he  thinks  he  could  be  far  better,  far  cleverer,  far  more  useful 
if  he  had  you  for  his  wife  —  that's  how  it  is." 

"  Pe  Ontjes!  "  she  said  with  breathless  agitation.  "  I  want 
nothing  in  the  world  so  much  as  that  you  should  be  good  to 
me." 

'  Then  hand  over  your  heart,"  he  said  aloud,  seizing  her 
hands  stretched  out  to  take  his. 

"  I  love  you,"  she  said ;    "  you  must  know  that." 

"  Thank  God  for  that,"  he  said,  holding  her  hands  tight. 

"  But,  Pe  Ontjes,  we  are  so  poor!  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said.  "  I  am  marrying  your  tables  and  chairs, 
I  suppose!  Woman,  I  want  your  courage  and  your  shining 
eyes.  To-day  I  bought  Bartel's  house.  It  isn't  big,  but  it  is 


184  HOLYLAND 

snug  and  comfortable,  and  then  we  can  live  together.  My 
mother  will  provide  a  table,  your  mother  a  bed  —  so  there ! 
Oh,  to  think  of  living  with  you !  " 

"  When  I  love  anyone,"  she  said  softly,  "  then  I  love  him, 
oh!  fearfully  much.  I  think  only  of  him  and  what  concerns 
him,  and  care  nothing  for  the  whole  wide  world  beyond." 
Raising  her  eyes,  she  looked  at  him.  "  I  have  loved  you  for  a 
long  while,"  she  said. 

"  And  I  you,  Anna,"  said  he,  putting  his  free  arm  round  her 
neck. 

^'Kai  Jans  will  see  —  " 

"  No !  He  said  ...  he  would  sit  behind  the  mainsail 
until  I  called  him.  Kai,  come  here." 

Kai  Jans  stepped  down  from  the  poop. 

"  Kai,  we  are  engaged.  The  wedding  will  be  in  six  weeks  at 
most." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Kai,  "  I  am  glad.  Now  we  shall  have  a 
delightful  voyage."  '  He  shook  hands  with  Anna.  "  Yes ;  I  am 
very  glad,  believe  me."  He  was  thinking  of  an  evening  in 
May  three  years  ago. 

'  Thank  you,  Kai." 

"  We  have  passed  the  sandbank."  He  pointed  to  a  dark 
line  to  the  north.  "  Do  you  remember,  Anna,  you  called  him 
the  eel-eater?  And  now  —  tastes  change!" 

"  Good  Heavens !  "  she  said.  "  I  never  thought  of  that. 
No,"  she  said,  with  a  low  laugh,  "  I  can  never  kiss  you!  "  She 
pressed  his  hand  hard. 

They  glided  past  the  lightship.  A  brief  word  was  exchanged 
across  the  night.  When  its  light  had  disappeared  behind  them 
they  saw  the  Heligoland  light  in  front  of  them.  They  flew 
over  the  sea,  the  swell  driving  them  gradually  further  and 
further  out  into  the  open. 

"  Now  we  are  going  from  Holyland  to  Holyland,"  said  Kai 
Jans.  "  It's  the  same  word,  Heligoland  and  Hilligenlei." 

He  was  going  forward  again,  but  she  said,  "  Stay  with  us, 
Kai." 

"  I  shall  only  be  in  the  way,  child,"  he  said  thoughtfully. 

"  Not  at  all.  Come  and  sit  down  by  us.  There  is  nothing 
to  do  till  you  get  to  Heligoland.  If  you  don't  want  to  sleep, 
come  and  talk  to  us." 

"  For  a  little  while,  then,"  said  hcj  sitting  down  beside  Anna 


HOLYLAND  185 

and  spreading  out  his  oilskin  so  that  the  wind  could  not  blow 
between  them.  Then  he  was  silent. 

"  Well,"  said  Pe  Ontjes. 

"Well,"  said  Kai,  "I  don't  know.  I  can  only  talk  of 
things  which  seem  to  me  important." 

"  Talk  of  them,  then,"  said  Anna.  "  Your  examination,  I 
suppose  ? " 

He  laughed.     "  No!  "  he  said.     "  Wieben  Peters." 

"  Is  the  story  of  Wieben  Peters  important?  "  said  Pe  Ontjes. 

"  We  all  know  that  story  —  every  child  in  Hilligenlei  knows 
it,"  said  Anna. 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  no  one  knows  it.  You  can't  think  how  I 
have  thought  and  thought  about  it,  to  find  the  truth." 

"  Tell  it  us,  then,"  said  Pe  Ontjes. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  light  south-south-westerly  wind  filled  the  sails;  the 
fine  rain  fell  slanting  on  the  deck;  the  water  rushed,  swishing 
round  the  ship;  the  Heligoland  light  burned  clear  in  the  grey, 
starless  night. 

"  About  four  hundred  years  ago  Wieben  Peters,  of  Dit- 
marsh,  made  the  same  voyage  that  we  are  making  now  —  not 
in  peace  as  we  three,  but  in  burning  anger  because  he  thought 
that  his  people  had  put  him  in  the  wrong  where  he  was  right. 
This  was  the  case.  But  the  real  cause  of  the  dissension  lay  in 
the  fact  that  his  was  a  despotic  nature,  for  whom  the  little 
farming  state  had  no  place.  There  they  were  all  masters,  all 
equally  great.  '  What  a  despotic  eye  he  has !  Look !  he  walks 
as  if  he  were  Count  Rantzau  at  least!  How  sharply  his  words 
ring  out!  I  say,  where  did  he  get  a  coat  of  that  cut?  Just 
look  at  his  long,  yellow  beard !  Let's  annoy  him ! '  He  ended 
by  roaring  like  a  bull. 

"  He  went  to  sea  with  fifteen  wild,  turbulent  fellows  on 
board.  The  beach  was  lit  up  by  the  flaming  houses  of  his  op- 
ponents. The  people  shouted  imprecations  after  the  enemy  of 
his  country. 

"  At  that  time  Heligoland  was  inhabited  by  a  miserable  race 
—  the  degenerate  lees  of  the  brave  people  that  had  crossed  the 
sea  to  England.  They  lived  on  the  scanty  herrings  they 
caught,  and  on  rough  nights  they  would  light  a  fire  on  the 
tower  in  the  hope  that  some  ship  might  run  aground  on  the 
sands  or  against  the  cliffs.  In  this  they  were  seldom  gratified, 
although  the  parson,  at  whose  feet  they  sat  to  a  man  every 
Sunday,  and  whose  ministrations  were  reserved  for  them,  prayed 
fervently  that  God  would  bless  their  shores  with  wreckage. 

"  When  Wieben  Peters  ran  into  their  bay  with  a  fresh 
south-easter  and  on  to  the  beach,  they  ran  away  and  hid  in  the 
gorges  and  declivities  of  the  lower  part  of  the  island,  leaving 
Wieben  Peters  with  his  fifteen  followers  master  of  Heligo- 
land. 

1 86 


HOLYLAND  187 

"  He  dwelt  in  the  mighty  old  tower  built  by  the  earlier, 
valiant  inhabitants,  and  went  down  and  levied  contributions 
from  his  native  land.  Every  time  he  sallied  forth  either  a  Dit- 
marsh  cutter  laden  with  gun-metal  from  Hamburg  was  raided 
or  a  farm  set  on  fire.  On  his  return  he  would  rejoice,  laugh 
to  himself,  and  play  with  his  long  beard,  tying  knots  in  it  and 
then  untying  them.  He  fed  his  soul  on  fierce  hatred,  and 
pretended  that  he  was  satisfied  and  content;  but  he  suffered 
sore. 

"  One  day  he  went  north  with  six  men  on  board  for  the 
sheer  joy  of  sailing,  till  he  came  to  the  Bergen  heights,  and 
there  he  sailed  up  to  see  whether  there  were  any  ships  from 
Ditmarsh  lying  there.  He  inquired  up  and  down  the  German 
quay.  There  was  not  one.  Then,  in  an  ill-humour,  he  went 
into  one  of  the  warehouses  to  buy  provisions  for  the  return. 

"  Now,  in  this  foreign  country  the  German  merchants  lived 
in  their  warehouses  on  the  quay.  All  the  time  they  were  closely 
watched  and  made  to  feel  that  their  position  was  not  that  of 
masters,  but  of  tolerated  guests.  For  example,  they  were  not 
allowed  to  have  their  wives  with  them  —  a  prohibition  which 
they  evaded  by  cutting  holes  in  the  wall  into  which  their  beds 
were  built,  and  admitting  the  wives,  who  dwelt  in  the  town, 
at  nights. 

"It  was  dark  when  Wieben  Peters  entered  the  Hamburg 
merchant's  room,  and,  not  finding  him  there,  he  walked  up  and 
down,  thinking.  While  he  was  doing  so  the  little  door  behind 
the  bed  opened  and  the  Hamburger's  wife  crept  in.  Still  on 
her  knees,  she  saw  a  strange  man,  and  followed  him  with  her 
eyes.  He  gave  one  rapid  glance  in  her  direction  and  then  paid 
her  no  further  attention,  but  began  to  play  with  his  beard. 
Now,  although  the  day  was  already  far  advanced,  one  long  ray 
of  bright  sunshine  shone  right  across  the  dark  little  room, 
striking  it  at  about  the  height  of  a  man's  head,  and  this  flick- 
ering, belated  light  played  upon  his  beard  from  time  to  time. 
The  beard  was  so  yellow  that  it  seemed  to  cast  off  a  reflected 
light  of  its  own,  which  played  over  the  kneeling  woman's  face 
like  so  many  little  sprites  warming  their  feet  on  her  glowing 
eyes  and  cheeks. 

"At  last  the  woman  said  in  a  slow,  difficult  voice,  '  How 
many  knots  can  you  tie  in  your  beard  ? ' 


i88  HOLYLAND 

"  He  loosened  the  knife  that  hung  in  his  belt  and  said,  going 
up  to  the  bed,  '  How  many  can  you  make  ?  ' 

"  Raising  herself  a  little  on  her  knees,  she  plunged  both  her 
hands  in  his  beard  and  began  playing  with  it,  then  looked  up 
at  him  with  an  embarrassed  laugh.  Letting  her  hands  sink, 
she  murmured,  '  Ah !  you  —  you  are  a  man ! ' 

"  '  Where  is  the  Hamburger?  '  said  he. 

"  '  Oh,  the  shell-fish ! '  said  she,  letting  her  hands  slip  down 
his  body  and  then  hold  him  fast.  She  loved  him  so. 

"  Then  he  cried  wildly,  breathing  hard,  '  Come  to  the  end 
of  the  quay  to-night.  I  will  wait  for  you.' 

"  So  that  very  night  she  ran  away  from  the  Hamburg  mer- 
chant, leapt  on  board  ship,  and  sailed  with  him  to  Heligo- 
land. 

"  Winter  came ;  the  wild  west  wind  tore  and  raged  round 
the  island,  and  the  love  which  his  great,  passionate  heart  lav- 
ished on  the  woman  was  as  strong  and  unruly  as  the  wind. 
Summer  came:  gentle  winds  breathed  soft  and  low  round  the 
ruddy  cliffs;  and  the  love  of  his  great,  deep  heart  for  the 
woman  was  as  gentle  and  tender  as  the  breeze. 

"  So  he  lived,  summer  and  winter,  for  four  years.  Now 
and  then  he  sailed  away,  and  those  who  stayed  behind  would 
see  the  vivid  glow  of  fire  shining  in  the  eastern  sky,  over  from 
Ditmarsh.  Verily  his  native  land  paid  the  penalty  of  its  sins! 
When  he  returned  he  would  go  up  to  her  bed  and  rejoice  as 
he  gazed  upon  her,  tying  and  untying  knots  in  his  long  beard 
the  while. 

"  So  he  fed  his  heart  on  passionate  love,  and  pretended  that 
he  was  satisfied  and  content.  But  often  he  would  stand,  look- 
ing with  sombre  eyes  across  to  Ditmarsh,  and  suffering  sore. 

"  When  he  returned  one  day  with  his  companions  from  Dit- 
marsh, after  having  lightened  the  load  of  a  cutter  at  Bruns- 
buttel,  and  emptied  two  farmyards,  the  little  parson;  who  still 
lived  with  the  wretched  remnant  of  the  people  living  under 
the  cliffs,  happened  to  slink  past,  and,  as  usual,  some  of  the 
men,  having  no  respect  for  the  Church  or  its  gifts,  began  to 
throw  dead  fish  at  the  stout  little  man's  head.  Wieben  Peters 
stopped  them  sharply  and  severely.  A  priest  was  not  a  fit  sub- 
ject for  mockery,  he  said. 

'  They  looked  at  one  another  in  astonishment. 

"  The  next   Sunday  the  little  priest  clambered  up  to  the 


HOLYLAND  189 

heights  to  hold  a  service  for  the  wild  horde  there.  Wieben 
Peters  and  the  woman .  from  Bergen  and  his  children  by  her, 
the  men  and  the  women  they  had  with  them,  sat  at  the  lee  side 
of  the  tower,  shyly  imitating  Wieben  Peters'  actions,  folding 
their  hard  hands  when  he  did,  murmuring  the  prayers  they 
could  not  comprehend.  When  the  service  was  at  an  end  they 
stepped  aside  and  said  to  one  another  between  their  teeth,  in 
toneless  voices  and  without  moving  their  lips,  '  He'll  go  down 
hill  now.  He's  become  holy.  It's  all  up ! ' 

"  Nevertheless  they  made  some  raids  of  the  good  old  sort 
over  to  Ditmarsh  and  brought  rich  booty  home,  and  so  things 
went  on  for  a  time. 

"  But  one  day  Wieben  Peters  took  the  parson  aside,  and, 
looking  at  him  as  if  he  wanted  to  penetrate  behind  his  eyes  to 
the  inside  of  his  head,  said,  '  It  isn't  enough.  You  must  know 
what  more  I  must  do.' 

"  At  first  the  priest  was  terrified,  but  then  he  gave  the  ac- 
cursed counsel,  '  Give  half  the  gold  and  silver  you  have  stolen 
to  the  cathedral  in  Hamburg — that  will  bring  you  peace.' 

"  So  it  was  done.  Again  they  made  a  raid  to  Ditmarsh  and 
brought  rich  booty  home,  and  things  went  on  smoothly  for  a 
time.  Yet  he  was  not  cheerful.  He  felt  no  inclination  to 
play  with  his  beard  and  tie  knots  in  it.  So  a  few  months  later 
he  again  took  the  priest  aside  and  said  to  him  what  he  had  said 
before.  The  parson  went  down  to  the  lower  part  of  the  island 
and  sat  a  whole  day  pondering  in  the  rotten  old  boat  in  which 
he  dwelt.  He  could  not  understand  a  man  of  this  sort.  Then 
he  went  up  again,  shaking  his  head  and  groaning,  and  this  time 
he  had  to  give  the  real  answer.  '  You  must  give  up  all  that 
you  possess  and  earn  your  bread  by  the  work  of  your  hands, 
live  a  pure,  sinless  life,  begging  God  for  forgiveness  of  your 
transgressions.' 

"  And  it  had  to  be  done.  All  their  goods  were  secretly  des- 
patched to  Ditmarsh.  The  women  were  married  or  dismissed. 
There  were  to  be  no  hard  deeds,  no  rough  words,  no  raids  over 
the  sea.  Every  man  was  to  fish  all  day  long.  Morning  and 
evening  fervent  prayer,  '  God  have  mercy,  Lord  have  mercy.' 
That  was  the  order  of  the  day. 

"  Next  night  the  best  of  his  comrades  filled  the  best  cutter 
with  the  best  treasures,  and  were  for  sailing  away.  But  the 
woman  intervened,  and  begged  them  to  stand  by  him.  She 


HOLYLAND 

would  see  that  their  goods  were  not  sent  away  at  once.  They 
retrained. 

"  Some,  it  must  be  admitted,  did  really  come  to  God.  Into 
their  eyes  there  came  an  expression  at  once  serious  and  beauti- 
ful. From  morning  to  night  they  were  eager  to  help  others, 
and  their  laughter  was  like  the  innocent  laughter  of  a  child. 
Most  of  them,  however,  hung  round  the  walls  of  the  tower  in 
gloomy  silence,  staring  dully  across  the  sea. 

"And  Wieben?  No!  he  did  not  come  to  God.  He  went 
about  with  a  dark  look  on  his  face,  staring  eastwards,  towards 
Ditmarsh.  There  was  no  deep,  beautiful  expression  in  his 
eyes.  He  suffered  sore. 

"  Then  the  woman  saw  the  only  way  to  help  him  —  the  way 
she  had  long  foreseen.  She  loved  him  as  passionately  as  on 
that  first  evening  when  she  knelt  on  the  Hamburg  merchant's 
bed.  She  loved  him  with  the  whole  force  and  intensity  of  her 
nature  —  with  a  love  that  thought  only  of  him  and  nothing  of 
self.  Therefore  she  sent  a  trusty  messenger  over  to  Ditmarsh 
to  say,  '  Wieben  Peters  is  going  mad  because  you  do  not  come ! 
Come!' 

"  Thirty  men  of  the  best  families  took  counsel  together, 
stocked  a  boat  with  beer  and  bacon  enough,  and  sailed  for  the 
island  with  a  favourable  breeze. 

"  As  so  often  Wieben  Peters  stood  on  the  tower  with  his 
wife  by  his  side,  gazing  eastwards,  and  he  saw  the  boat  and  all 
the  men  beneath  the  two  big  sails,  and  recognised  the  Ditmarsh 
standard  aloft.  Then  he  rejoiced  —  rejoiced  so  that  his  eyes 
shone  with  joy.  And  his  joy  grew  as  he  recognised  the  men, 
one  by  one,  and  saw  that  they  belonged  to  the  best  families. 
He  laughed,  and  began  to  knot  his  beard.  Three  knots  in  each 
strand,  says  the  chronicle.  Then  he  sent  his  wife  and  children 
and  all  the  other  women  to  the  extreme  end  of  the  cliff, 
where  he  had  built  them  a  shelter,  and  armed  himself  for 
defence. 

"  His  aim  was  to  prevent  the  men  from  Ditmarsh  from 
climbing  into  the  upper  part  of  the  island,  but  the  .wretched 
folk  below  showed  them  a  secret  way,  and  he  with  his  twenty 
companions  had  to  retire  to  the  tower.  Three  or  four  of  the 
assailants  fell.  The  others  drove  in  the  door,  killed  some,  and 
took  the  rest  prisoners.  Wieben  Peters  himself  sped  alone  up 
the  staircase,  shutting  the  trap  door  behind  him.  With  the 


HOLYLAND  191 

great  bows  they  shot  from  below  through  the  planks  till  all 
was  quiet  overhead  and  blood  dripped  down. 

"  Then  they  went  up  the  steps,  but  no  one  was  anxious  to  go 
forward,  thinking  that  the  first  man  to  put  his  head  through 
the  trap  door  would  get  a  blow  that  would  last  him  all  his  life. 
At  last  Watt,  of  Dreisprung,  a  great,  tall  fellow  —  his  long- 
legged  descendants  are  all  over  the  countryside  to-day  — 
plucked  up  courage  and  opened  the  door. 

"  There,  on  his  back,  lay  Wieben  Peters,  stretched  out  all 
his  length,  gasping  heavily.  'Come  on!'  he  said,  looking  at 
them  in  turn  as  they  came  through  the  trap  door  with  eyes 
from  which  even  imminent  death  had  not  chased  the  joyful  in- 
terest, whispering  the  name  and  family  of  each.  They  stayed 
by  with  him  all  evening.  Most  of  them,  indeed,  sat  below, 
round  the  beer  cask,  but  all  the  time  some  sat  upstairs  with  him, 
each  relating  to  him  what  had  happened  in  his  family  and  in  the 
other  important  families,  the  deaths  and  births,  the  quarrels, 
the  feasts,  the  marriages,  he  listening  greedily  with  unblinking 
eyes,  greedy  of  looking  into  their  faces. 

"  And  they  had  much  to  ask  him  in  their  turn.  They  wanted 
details  of  this  raid  and  that,  rejoicing  in  his  success,  and  say- 
ing, '  You  were  a  thorn  in  our  side !  You're  a  great  man.' 

"His  eyes  laughed.  'Tell  me,'  he  said  softly;  'why  did 
you  not  come  before?  I  longed  for  you  to  come!  It  was  scan- 
dalous the  way  you  put  up  with  everything!  You're  a  set  of 
mealbags ! ' 

'  Don't  you  see,  we  decided  to  let  you  really  get  together 
a  lot  of  booty,  so  as  to  make  it  worth  while  to  come.' 

"  His  eyes  still  laughed. 

'  It  was  fearfully  stupid  of  you,'  they  said,  '  to  let  such 
a  lot  of  good  stuff  go  to  the  fat  Hamburgers.  You  might  have 
known  we  should  come  and  fetch  it  back ! ' 

"  His  eyes  laughed  more.  Towards  midnight  they  shouted 
up  from  below,  '  Wieben,  we've  got  hold  of  a  parson.  Do  you 
want  him  ? ' 

"  He  shook  his  head.     '  Everything  is  in  order,'  he  said. 
1 '  So  we  think,'  said  they. 

"  So  they  talked  and  told  stories  and  drank.  When  he  could 
no  longer  take  a  share,  and  began  to  breathe  hard  and  rattle 
in  his  throat,  they  all  went  below  and  drank,  one  coming  up 
from  time  to  time  to  see  how  he  did.  When  the  morning  rose 


I92  HOLYLAND 

across  the  sea,  to  the  east,  above  his  native  land,  grey  at  first 
and  pale  as  a  new-born  babe,  then,  gradually  growing  bright 
and  laughing,  he  died. 

"  The  woman  from  Bergen,  who  came  from  Friesland  by 
birth,  remained  upon  the  island,  cast  the  parson  and  his 
wretched  folk  into  the  sea,  and  brought  up  her  tall  children  — 
a  new  race  to  people  the  land,  brave  and  strong  and  prudent. 
All  the  people  with  curious  names  on  the  island,  Hunken, 
Haien,  etc.,  are  descended  from  her.  Their  faces  look  as  if 
they  had  been  carved  by  a  rather  unskilful  carpenter  driven 
mad  by  this  evil  world." 

The  wind  had  got  up,  and  the  rain  fell  more  steadily;  the 
light  shone  clear  to  the  right  of  the  mainsail,  gleaming  high 
and  wide  over  the  sounding  darkness. 

"Yes,"  said  Kai  Jans;  "the  parson's  last  counsel  was  right. 
One  must  renounce  all,  suffer  all,  live  a  pure  life  in  poverty. 
Only  so  can  one  come  before  God  pure  as  a  child.  It  says  so 
plainly  in  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  But  he  could  not  do  it. 
And  I  —  I  can't  do  it,  either.  I  hardly  believe  that  the  Saviour 
Himself  could.  Why?  There  is  something  in  human  nature, 
and  something  good,  too,  that  fights  against  it.  That  kind  of 
holiness  of  life  is  worthless.  There  is  something  wrong  in  it." 

"  So,"  said  Anna,  "  that's  what  you  brood  about  in  Berlin  — 
Wieben  Peters,  and  that  sort  of  thing!  " 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  "  you're  not  to  imagine  that  I'm  a  dreamer 
—  a  sentimentalist!  I  am  looking  on  at  life  there." 

"  Especially  the  girls !  "  said  Anna. 

"  It's  almost  dangerous  to  confess  as  much,  but  I  do  not  deny 
it.  If  I  were  to  say  I  prize  nothing  so  much  as  a  good  dinner, 
or  I  think  nothing  so  important  as  a  properly  starched  collar, 
I  should  be  considered  a  person  of  sense ;  but  if  I  say  I  don't 
think  there  is  anything  better  than  a  pretty  young  girl,  I  am 
looked  upon  as  a  doubtful  character.  And  yet,  is  there  any- 
thing in  nature  so  beautiful,  so  glorious?  Do  you  know,  Pe 
Ontjes,  I  go  sometimes  to  the  museum  or  the  national  gallery, 
and  I'm  happy  enough  there;  but  I  can  tell  you  if  I  see  a  pretty 
graceful  girl  standing  in  front  of  one  of  the  pictures  everything 
on  the  walls  and  round  about  is  nothing  to  me  in  comparison." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  "  and  I  am  sure 
Anna  has  nothing  to  say  against  it.  What  else  do  you  find 
interesting  in  Berlin  ?  " 


HOLYLAND  193 

"  Oh !  the  streets,  the  crowd,  the  buildings,  the  soldiers,  the 
theatre ;  but  far  the  most  of  all,  people  —  individuals." 

"  How  do  you  mean?  "  said  Pe  Ontjes. 

"  Well,  I  cannot  help  watching  them,  to  try  to  find  out  how 
they  live  and  what  they  think  about.  I  can  walk  up  and  down 
the  streets  for  hours  —  not  only  Unter  den  Linden,  but  in  the 
north,  where  I  live  —  thinking  about  the  people  I  see,  picturing 
their  past  to  myself,  and  their  way  of  life  and  their  feelings. 
I  know  ever  so  many  of  the  workmen's  families  among  whom  I 
live  —  the  men  and  their  wives  and  children  too." 

"  So  that's  how  you  occupy  yourself,"  said  Anna,  "  with 
girls  in  picture  galleries,  and  people  on  the  street,  and  work- 
men's families!  You  went  to  Berlin  for  rather  a  different 
purpose,  you  must  admit.  Honestly  now  —  one  must  confess 
it." 

"  You  mean,  to  study  theology,"  said  Kai,  looking  thought- 
fully out  to  sea.  "  Well,  I  do  study  theology,  and  I  shall  pass 
my  examination  soon,  when  the  time  comes,  and  creditably 
enough,  too.  But  I  will  tell  you  something  that  is  rather 
strange.  Mark,  Anna.  You  know  our  people  are  more  and 
more  falling  away  from  the  old  belief.  Science  is  undermining 
Catholicism  and  Protestantism  alike.  Something  new  must, 
and  will,  come.  The  question  is,  am  I  not  doing  right  in  get- 
ting to  know  what  men  are  nowadays?  Think!  The  alder- 
man has  no  religion,  or  one  not  worth  calling  by  that  name. 
No  more  has  the  baker's  boy.  And  certainly  the  workman's 
wife  has  none  at  all.  You  would  be  right  to  blame  me  if  I 
were  simply  lounging  about  Berlin  out  of  idleness  or  ennui; 
but  what  I  do  is  to  stand  in  the  stream  of  humanity,  listening 
to  its  roar,  hearing  in  that  roar  the  old  question,  '  Whence  came 
ye,  whither  go  ye,  children  of  men?  '  And  I  can  hear  this  ques- 
tion more  clearly,  more  profoundly  than  other  men.  I  am 
more  troubled  by  it  than  other  men." 

"  Yes,"  said  Anna,  "  I  see.  That's  the  cause  of  it  all.  Three 
and  a  half  years  ago,  at  the  restaurant,  you  gave  it  all  up. 
Now  you  have  begun  again  to  look  for  Hilligenlei." 

"Well,  suppose  I  have;  what  have  you  to  say  against 
it?" 

"  Nothing  at  all !  "  they  cried  earnestly.  "  Nothing.  Seek 
on." 

"  Now,  Anna,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  "  you  must  go  to  the  cabin. 


194  HOLYLAND 

Come,  I'll  show  you  the  sleeping  accommodation.  We  must 
reef  up  afterwards,  Kai." 

"  Don't  be  too  long,"  said  Kai.  "  The  wind  is  veering  to  the 
west,  and  there  is  more  swell  on.  We  may  have  a  bad  time 
yet." 

When  they  came  into  the  cramped  little  room  he  struck  a 
light  and  then  sat  down  on  the  locker,  saying,  "  Well,  is  there 
perfect  peace  between  us  now?  Come  here!  " 

He  drew  her  on  to  his  knee.  She  played  shyly  with  the 
lapels  of  his  coat,  looking  up  at  him  with  a  clear,  affectionate 
gaze  and  saying  with  a  deep  thrill  in  her  voice,  "  How  sweet 
it  is  to  have  someone  belonging  to  one !  " 

Lost  in  happy  wonder,  he  feasted  his  eyes  on  her  beauty  and 
her  gentleness,  lifting  his  free  hand  slowly  to  stroke  her  fair 
hair,  again  and  again,  in  tender  silence.  Then  gradually  he 
drew  her  close  and  closer  to  him. 

"  Your  breath  is  so  sweet,  like  the  morning  wind,"  he  said. 

"  Of  course,  you  silly  boy,  when  one  is  young  and  clean !  " 

"  And  your  lips  taste  of  salt." 

"  And  yours  too  —  that's  the  sea  wind,"  she  said. 

"  Oh !  your  beautiful  eyes !  how  they  shine !  and  your  breath 
is  sweet  —  dear  little  girl!  " 

"  You  are  so  dear  to  me,"  she  said  in  a  difficult  voice. 

"  Darling,  I  never  dreamed  you  were  so  passionate.  Oh ! 
darling!" 

"  Oh !  do  you  mind  ?  "  she  cried  in  a  strangled  voice.  "  I 
can't  help  it !  I  am  like  that !  " 

"  You  dear,  darling  baby !  Don't  you  know  I  would  throw 
you  overboard  if  you  weren't  like  that!  "  He  drew  her  closer 
to  him  and  kissed  her. 

"Oh!  Pe  Ontjes!"  said  she  softly,  hiding  her  face  in  his 
shoulder.  "Your  yellow  beard!  how  I  love  it!  If  you  had 
been  a  shellfish,  a  solitary,  ah!  what  a  wretched  look-out  had 
that  been  for  me!  Oh!  dear,  dear  one!  " 

He  laughed  and  drew  her  to  him  again.  "  You  dare  to 
talk  to  me  of  shellfish !  "  he  said.  "  There !  now  I  must  go  up 
and  you  to  sleep." 

"  Oh !  stay  a  little.  You  must  show  me  how  to  arrange  here. 
I  will  only  take  off  my  dress  and  lie  down."  She  did  so,  laugh- 
ing. "  There  —  there  is  a  good  deal  of  swell,  but  I  shall  go 
to  sleep.  Stay  just  a  little  with  me.  Oh!  what  a  lovely  day 


HOLYLAND  195 

to-morrow  will  be,  Pe!  I'm  not  grateful  —  you  mustn't  im- 
agine that  I  am.  I  am  worth  as  much  as  you  are.  But  I  am 
happy  through  you,  and  I  think  you  are  happy  through  me.  .  .  . 
Suppose  we  meet  Pete  in  the  morning?  How  glad  mother  will 
be!  She  has  not  had  much  to  be  glad  about  in  the  last  few 
years.  And  your  parents  —  they  will  be  glad,  too,  I  know,  al- 
though I  have  no  money.  And  we  shall  live  in  Reimer's 
house?" 

They  began  to  talk  about  the  house,  and  could  not  enough 
discuss  how  it  should  be  arranged,  and  they  live  in  it,  holding 
one  another's  hands  the  while,  with  their  eyes  gazing  into  one 
another's  faces  by  the  dim  light  of  the  lamp. 

"  I  really  must  go  on  deck  now,  and  you  must  go  to  sleep," 
said  he.  He  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her.  It  was  bliss 
to  be  in  his  arms. 

"  I  wonder  so  that  you  are  so  dear  to  me!  "  she  said.  "  I 
have  always  thought  about  it.  I  was  afraid  you  could  only 
care  for  a  sack  of  maize  or  the  Gude  Wife" 

"  Dear,  I  am  like  other  men  —  no  different.  To  have  the 
one  you  love  in  your  arms,  and  know  she  loves  you  —  that  sets 
a  man  on  fire!  "  He  kissed  her  passionately.  "  I  never  want 
to  leave  you." 

She  embraced  him,  saying,  "  Oh,  Pe  Ontjes,  I  love  you  ter- 
ribly much,  and  I  would  go  through  fire  for  anyone  I  love. 
But,  Pe  Ontjes  —  I  must  always,  always  be  able  to  be  proud 
of  you." 

Their  passion  was  ready  to  leap  into  flame  again,  but  all  at 
once  the  vessel  began  to  roll  heavily  from  side  to  side,  and  he 
had  to  leave  her  to  go  on  deck. 

When  he  looked  about  him  he  saw  Kai  Jans  and  the  boy 
at  work  on  the  sails.  The  light  was  high  above  them  in  the 
sky,  to  the  starboard  side,  the  wind  had  grown  stronger  and 
veered  to  the  west.  The  heavy  swell  tossed  the  light  vessel 
from  side  to  side.  With  Pe  Ontjes'  aid  they  got  her  safely  be- 
fore the  wind. 

'There!"  said   Kai,  sitting  down  at  the  helm  beside  Pe. 
"  We  shall  be  in  Cuxhaven  in  five  hours,  sha'n't  we?  " 

'  With   luck,"  said   Pe  Ontjes,  looking  to   the  south-west. 

;<  The  storm  is  abating." 

They  sat  side  by  side,  saying  little,  the  wind  driving  between 
them.  Squalls  of  driving  rain  came  on,  getting  more  violent 


196  HOLYLAND 

as  the  morning  broke.  They  watched  until  the  grey  of  dawn, 
their  lives  in  their  hands. 

Just  as  day  was  breaking  and  the  vessel  had  come  through  a 
violent  squall,  Anna  Boje  appeared  at  the  hatchway,  red  with 
sleep,  looking  anxiously  about  her.  "  Oh !  I  have  slept  so 
sound,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  know  how  I  could.  The  noise  just 
now  waked  me  up."  They  did  not  catch  what  she  said,  but 
Kai  sprang  to  his  feet,  helped  her  up,  shut  down  the  hatchway, 
and  led  her  to  the  helm. 

"  She  will  get  wet  through,"  said  Pe. 

"  I  don't  mind  so  long  as  I  am  with  you  both." 

They  wrapped  her  up  in  an  old  wet  oilskin,  and  she  sat  still, 
rather  cramped,  looking  with  her  direct,  serious  gaze  over  the 
dawning  sky  and  the  sea  as  it  came  roaring  past  from  the  far 
distance  in  long  lines  of  mountainous  white  surf. 

"  Do  you  see  that  light?  "  said  Pe.  "  That's  Neuwerk,  and 
the  next  is  Cuxhaven." 

When  they  passed  their  old  love  two  hours  later  the  signal 
ran  outside  the  pilot  house,  "  Storm  from  the  S.  W.,  turning 
to  the  right."  That  was  about  nine  o'clock. 

Three  hours  later,  about  twelve  o'clock,  the  Grimmershorn 
cannons  thundered  over  the  roaring  sea.  The  storm  had  turned 
to  the  north-west.  It  was  a  wild,  dark  November  day. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

IT  was  on  this  same  fearful,  grey  day  in  November  that  the 
beautiful  Bremen  three-rnast  barque,  coming  from  Iquique  with 
a  cargo  of  saltpetre,  failed  to  hold  her  course  outside  Texel, 
and  was  driven  on  to  the  breakers,  where  she  lay  for  six  hours 
with  the  mad,  white  seadogs  leaping  round  her.  Thousands  of 
them  leapt  up,  barking  and  roaring,  only  to  fall  back  again. 
Thousands  bit  at  her  sides,  howling.  Thousands  more  gnawed 
among  the  sand  at  her  hold,  and  it  was  they  who  caused  her 
death.  She  sank  deeper,  deeper,  ever  deeper  in.  The  men  tried 
to  leave  the  ship  —  ten  in  one  boat,  ten  in  the  other.  One 
boatload  made  its  way  safely  through  the  surf ;  the  other,  sucked 
back  irresistibly,  was  washed  against  the  walls  of  the  ship  and 
smashed.  Nothing  more  was  seen  of  the  boat,  nothing  more 
of  its  crew.  The  white  dogs  howled  all  night  long. 

It  was  on  this  same  fearful  grey  day  that  the  twelve  Finken- 
warder  fishing-boats  were  torn  from  their  moorings  and  driven 
south  of  Heligoland.  On  that  very  morning  the  passengers  on 
board  the  Deutschland  had  admired  them  as  they  stood  out  to 
the  north,  their  beautiful  brown  sails  defined  against  the  dark 
grey  of  the  sea  and  the  blue-grey  of  the  sky  behind.  In  the 
blue-grey  that  covered  the  whole  span  of  the  heavens  there 
stood  great  white  sails,  stretched  out,  upright,  reaching  from 
the  earth  to  the  highest  arch  of  heaven,  set  for  the  world  to 
sail  with.  About  ten  o'clock  a  heavy  cloud  rose,  low  down,  on 
the  sea,  that  came  on  swiftly,  blindly,  like  some  huge  grey  owl 
—  pale-yellow  flecks,  like  the  yellow-whites  of  evil,  ancient 
eyes.  It  came  on,  the  white  spray  spattering  it. 

They  looked  up  from  their  work,  and  now  they  hastened 
indeed.  How  they  flew  with  their  brown  wings,  the  little 
seagulls,  so  close  to  the  grey,  foaming  waters !  Bend  now,  little 
ones;  the  great,  old  sea  bird  is  just  above  you.  Listen  to  the 
rustle  of  his  mighty  wings.  He  comes! 

They  drew  in  their  wings.  They  bent  down.  He  smote 

197 


198  HOLYLAND 

twice,  below,  with  a  wild  onset.  Four  beautiful  brown  wings 
floated  on  the  waves. 

It  was  a  dark,  grey  November  day.  The  last  clear  patch 
had  disappeared  by  midday.  The  sea  was  a  tortured  mass  of 
grey-green  water,  the  air  above  torn  by  the  howling  winds, 
crossed  by  icy  rain  and  snow.  The  squalls  followed  faster  and 
faster  on  each  other's  heels. 

Six  torpedo  boats,  long  and  black,  with  their  curved  decks 
of  steel,  struggled  to  fight  their  way  through  the  wildly  rolling 
sea  to  the  mouth  of  the  Elbe.  It  was  of  the  first  necessity  that 
they  should  reach  it  before  the  powerful  ebb  tide  turned  the 
surf  against  them.  On  the  first  boat  stood  the  commander, 
the  funnel  behind  him,  the  low  conning  tower  castle  in  front, 
clad  in  his  shabby,  yellow  oilskins,  a  stout  English  scarf  round 
his  nee';,  an  ancient  cap  on  his  head,  with  storm  flaps  under  his 
chin,  ais  keen  eyes  following  every  motion  of  the  sea.  Beside 
him  stood  the  first  officer  with  his  hand  on  the  signal.  Six 
men,  in  diving  suits,  held  on  to  the  railing,  covered  every  now 
and  then  up  to  their  knees  by  the  white  foam.  About  ten 
o'clock  a  man  had  let  go  of  the  railing  on  the  neighbouring 
boat  to  let  a  comrade  pass  him.  In  less  than  the  twinkling  of 
an  eye  a  wave  had  dashed  over  him  and  drawn  him  down. 
About  eleven,  just  as  the  commander  was  bending  down  to  give 
an  order  to  the  man  at  the  wheel,  a  vast  sea  swept  right  over 
the  first  boat,  striking  her  dead  aft,  and,  lifting  the  hatches 
and  the  ship  itself,  cast  her  down  again  so  that  she  yawed  off. 
Then,  indeed,  what  an  impact!  Head  over  heels,  driven  on 
like  a  dead  fish,  five  men  hanging  to  the  bulwarks,  five  being 
madly  dashed  about  by  the  waves,  all  fished  out,  however. 
Something  like  fishing,  that !  But  six  went  to  the  bottom  with 
the  capsized  boat. 

There  they  lay  in  the  hideous  darkness,  in  the  overturned 
boat,  up  to  their  shoulders  in  the  water,  driven  hither  and 
thither  by  the  waves. 

The  young  commander  met  his  fate  without  a  murmur. 
With  calm  courage  he  faced  the  loss  of  life  and  all  that  makes 
it  precious  —  mother  and  brothers,  the  green  of  the  woods, 
honour  and  renown  among  his  fellow's  —  satisfied  to  be  giving 
his  life  for  his  country. 

"Boys,"  he  said  to  the  others,  "let  us  pray:  'Father,  take 


HOLYLAND  199 

our  souls  to  Thyself  in  Heaven,   and   grant  us  a  quick  and 
speedy  death.'  " 

He  lies  in  peace  in  the  cathedral  at  Schwerin,  just  as  they 
found  him  in  his  ragged  oilskins  and  long,  rubber  boots. 

It  was  a  dark,  grey  day,  a  morning  of  struggle  and  sorrow. 
All  over  the  wide  grey  sea  was  there  nothing  to  make  glad  the 
heart?  Look!  With  what  proud  grace  she  comes  on,  bowing 
and  rising  before  the  wind,  her  sails  furled  to  meet  it,  the 
waves  surging  over  her  knighthead!  Look  how  she  cleaves 
her  distant  way  through  cloud  and  rain  and  hail,  over  the  wild, 
grey  waters  —  the  Gude  Wife! 

Last  evening  they  had  left  the  canal,  the  south-wester  filling 
their  sails,  and  about  five  in  the  morning,  when  they  were  above 
Texel,  the  second  mate,  Pete  Boje  of  Hilligenlei,  was  about  to 
steer  an  easterly  course.  But  Jan  Deeken  came  on  deck,  and, 
after  snuffing  the  breeze,  he  went  down  below  and  actually 
came  up  again  with  his  woollen  cap ! 

Once  more  they  all  said,  "  He's  mistaken  this  time,  thank 
Heaven!  He's  mistaken!" 

He  stamped  up  and  down  between  the  taffrail  and  the  helm 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  looking  up  to  spit  now  and  then. 
Half  an  hour  later  he  said  in  passing  to  Pete  Boje,  "  Head  her 
north,  mate."  He  nodded  vaguely  towards  the  north.  Pete 
did  as  he  was  told,  not  without  a  secret  shake  of  the  head. 

By  ten  o'clock  a  gale  was  blowing  from  the  south-west  with 
a  tendency  to  turn  north,  which  made  it  in  the  highest  degree 
advisable  to  keep  as  far  as  possible  from  the  confounded  Frisian 
shallows,  and  proved  to  the  mate  that  the  old  man's  withered 
little  nose  had  not  yet  begun  to  play  him  false.  He  pointed 
with  his  thumb  to  a  sailing-vessel  towards  the  north.  "  Did 
you  see  her,  mate?  That  craft  is  the  Gude  Man!"  The  Gude 
Man  was  the  Gude  Wife's  brother,  and  belonged  to  the  same 
firm.  "  Captain  Winckel  was  once  mate  under  me ;  but  there 
was  no  confidence  between  us.  He  always  knew  best!"  He 
looked  at  Pete  from  under  his  eyes. 

"  Seeing  is  better  than  believing,  I  think,"  said  Pete. 
'  That's  a  sound  rule  on  the  whole,"  said  the  captain. 

An  hour  later  the  gale  had  turned  to  the  north-west,  and 
the  two  proud  ships,  not  a  mile  distant  from  one  another,  rode 
side  by  side  through  the  raging  sea  to  Heligoland,  their  sails 
full  to  bursting;  the  wind  whistling  and  howling  in  the  rig- 


200  HOLYLAND 

ging,  while  squalls  of  wind  and  rain  following  one  another  in 
quick  succession  made  it  impossible  to  see  far  ahead. 

An  hour  later,  when  it  cleared  up,  the  Gude  Wife  had  ported 
her  helm  still  more,  and  all  her  men  were  on  deck.  Soon  after- 
wards the  pilot-boat  appeared,  and  first  the  Gude  Man  and 
then  the  Gude  Wife  took  the  pilot  on  board  with  considerable 
difficulty,  the  Gude  Wife  wearing  round.  A  new  squall  arose, 
tearing  wildly  over  the  sea.  The  heavy  hail  beat  and  rattled 
on  the  deck.  Heavy  seas  dashed  amidship.  The  men  were 
huddled  together  aft.  The  air  was  so  thick  with  hail,  so  dark- 
ened by  storm  clouds  that  concealed  the  sun,  that  they  could 
only  see  as  far  as  where  the  foaming  water  was  jumping  up 
against  the  cabin.  And  so  it  went  on  for  an  hour.  Then  the 
sky  cleared  a  little,  and  the  storm  abated,  and  they  could  look 
about  them. 

There  lay  the  Gude  Man,  on  her  beam  ends,  all  the  forward 
rigging  apparently  broken  down.  Behind  the  dismembered  ves- 
sel the  cliffs  of  Heligoland  were  shadowed  forth.  The  captain 
expectorated,  his  eyes  fixed  on  her :  "  Keep  up !  That  looks 
bad !  "  he  said. 

Slowly  the  Gude  Wife  came  alongside.  Every  man  was  on 
the  qui  vive.  Pete's  eyes  seemed  ready  to  dart  out  of  his  head. 

The  captain  handed  him  his  binocular.  "  Look  across!  "  he 
said. 

"  They've  no  captain,"  said  Pete,  "  and  no  mate.  They're 
short  of  men,  captain !  " 

"  It's  lucky  we're  just  by  Heligoland,"  said  the  captain 
drily. 

At  that  moment  came  a  gust  of  wind.  "  Look!  the  sharks!  " 
cried  the  first  mate,  as  a  number  of  close-reefed  boats  from 
Heligoland  appeared  to  the  left  of  the  Gude  Man. 

Jan  Deeken  stared  across  with  a  muttered  oath.  The  Gude 
Wife  lay  along  the  port  side  of  the  Gude  Man.  "  Is  there 
water  enough,  pilot?" 

"^All  right,  captain." 

Pete  Boje  cast  a  rapid  glance  at  the  boat  on  the  hatchway. 
"Captain?" 

"  I  can't  take  the  responsibility,"  said  Deeken,  shaking  his 
head. 

"Impossible,"  said  the  first  mate,  and  the  grey-bearded  pilot 
shook  his  head. 


HOLYLAND  201 

Pete's  eyes  flew  from  the  Gude  Man  to  Deeken's  rugged 
face  and  back.  The  Gude  Man's  deck  was  a  mass  of  splin- 
tered yards  and  tangled  rigging. 

"  Captain?  "  he  almost  screamed. 

Deeken  shook  his  head.     "  No  good !  " 

Pete  tore  off  his  oilskins  and  his  coat.  "  Captain,  I  —  I 
must !  "  He  struck  his  chest  again  and  again. 

"Why?"  said  the  skipper,  expectorating. 

"I  must!" 

'  Then  do  it,  if  you  can't  help,"  said  the  skipper  sourly. 

"Out  with  the  boat!     Who's  coming  with  me?" 

Deeken  did  not  turn  his  head.     "  Back  tops'l !  " 

The  boat  was  launched.  In  sprang  Pete  and  two  others. 
The  men  stood  crowded  together  by  the  taffrail,  a  mass  of 
glistening  oilskins  and  sou'westers,  to  stare  at  the  boat,  bobbing 
up  and  down  like  a  cork. 

"  Boy,  boy,  it  is  no  good !  Good  Heavens !  what  a  mad 
fellow!  He  is  quite  cracked!  It's  all  right,  though!  she's  still 
afloat.  And  there  a  Heligolander  at  the  stern  —  he  can  help 
them!" 

i(  They're  a  damned  mad  lot!  " 

"  I  say!  look  at  the  Heligolander!  do  you  see?  " 

"He's  got  them!" 

;<  There's  one ;  the  other  two  are  gone  —  drowned." 

Jan  Deeken  had  not  looked.  When  he  heard  what  the  men 
were  saying  he  said  in  his  dry  voice,  "  East,  south-east,"  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  chart. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later,  when  Pete  and  the  two  Heligo- 
landers  climbed  on  to  the  deck  of  the  Gude  Man,  a  new  squall, 
rising  once  more,  covered  the  ship  with  the  awful  rush  of  hun- 
gry water. 

The  eldest  of  the  sailors  ran  up  to  him.  "  The  captain  is 
deadly  sick.  The  mate  and  four  men  are  gone  under." 

"Is  the  helm  all  right?" 

"  Yes." 

"Any  leakage?" 

"  No." 

"To  the  pumps!" 

"Cargo?" 

"  Wool  —  washed  away." 

"  I,  mate  of  the  Gude  Wife,  am  in  command." 


202  HOLYLAND 

The  sailor  came  up  to  Pete.  "Two  feet  of  water  in  the 
well!" 

"  Pilot,  make  for  the  Elbe." 

Up  came  Hunke  Heine,  or  Heine  Hunke,  or  whatever  his 
name  was,  biting  his  lips  till  there  was  nothing  of  them  to 
be  seen,  and  said,  "  Mate!  that's  no  good!  we  must  put 
ashore! " 

Then  Pete  laughed  all  over  his  face. 

"  Larboard  watch  and  four  Heligolanders  to  the  pumps! 
Starboard  watch,  clear  the  decks !  "  The  others  he  sent  down 
into  the  hold.  They  thought,  "  If  we  had  only  left  the  damned 
fellow  to  drown!  "  and  went  about  their  duty  in  silence,  doing 
it  like  men. 

For  four  hours  they  stood  on  the  precipitous  deck,  the  sea 
washing  over  it,  and  worked  for  their  lives,  with  their  eyes 
open  and  their  hands  alert.  The  mate  of  the  Gude  Wife  stood 
by  the  helmsman,  glass  in  hand,  in  his  dripping  clothes,  stiff 
with  cold,  looking  out  for  help. 

Then,  when  evening  came,  and  it  was  almost  dark,  two 
tow-boats  appeared  by  the  Scharhorn  heights,  sent  from  the 
shipowner. 

A  few  hours  later  Anna  Boje  came  running  up,  having 
heard  at  the  house  where  she  was  lodging  that  the  Gude  Wife 
had  come  in.  She  had  rushed  past  the  signal-house  in  the  wind 
and  the  driving  rain,  wrapped  in  Anna  Marten's  heavy  coat 
and  on  her  head  a  bright  handkerchief,  lent  her  by  the  land- 
lady, down  to  the  quay.  There  she  saw  the  dismantled  ship. 
Three  men  in  oilskins  were  standing,  talking  together,  by  one 
of  the  boats.  She  went  up  and  asked  them.  Hearing  the 
voice,  the  youngest  turned  round,  and  they  recognised  one 
another. 

At  first  he  was  astonished  by  her  appearance.  "  Mother 
isn't  ill,  is  she?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  laughing  eyes.  "  No ;  they're  all 
well." 

He  walked  a  few  steps  aside  with  her  and  said,  "  What  is 
it,  Anna?  You're  very  strange!  " 

So  she  told  him  what  had  happened.  He  was  delighted, 
and  asked  all  sorts  of  questions.  "  It's  lovely,"  he  said,  "  that 
you're  to  get  married  so  easily  and  smoothly.  It's  always  un- 
certain with  a  girl." 


HOLYLAND  203 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Well,"  he  said,  "one  is  wanton;  another  suffers  from 
hopeless  love ;  a  third  becomes  an  old  maid,  and  queer  at  that. 
But  you've  come  easily  and  smoothly  into  harbour,  and  I  am 
ever  so  glad !  " 

"  You  don't  know,  Pete,"  she  said  gravely,  "  whether  it  has 
been  so  smooth  and  easy.  You've  been  far  away  all  the  time. 
Even  if  you'd  sat  by  my  bed  every  evening  you'd  never  have 
seen.  What  does  a  brother  know  of  his  sister?  But  who's 
that?  Your  dear  brother-in-law?  " 

On  the  same  evening,  while  the  storm  rose  still  higher  and 
men  struggled  desperately  for  their  lives  upon  the  sea,  Pete 
Boje  was  talking  to  the  shipowner,  who  had  come  to  Cux- 
haven  in  his  anxiety  for  the  fate  of  his  two  splendid  ships. 

"  What  I  consider  of  most  importance,"  said  the  quiet 
elderly  man,  "  is  not  your  invention  of  improvements  which 
seem  to  work  well,  or  your  having  performed  an  action  to-day 
which,  though  it  has  brought  in  a  considerable  sum  of  money 
to  me  and  to  yourself,  could  have  been  accomplished  by  a  man 
whose  ability  was  not  accompanied  by  any  steadfastness  of 
purpose;  but  rather  that  I  feel  certain  that  you  would  carry 
out  anything  you  undertook  with  that  ability,  thoroughness, 
and  constant  attention  which  comes  from  devotion  to  a  thing 
for  its  own  sake.  Such  men  are  rare,  and  they  are  of  great 
value  to  the  head  of  a  big  undertaking:.  It  is  on  that  account 
that  I  purpose,  if  you  agree,  to  send  you  at  once  to  Gateshead 
to  examine  the  three-master  that  is  now  in  the  yard  there.  I 
am  sending  some  one  who  knows  how  to  use  his  eyes.  ...  I 
should  be  glad  not  to  have  any  more  ships  built  there." 

On  the  same  evening,  while  the  storm  howled,  making 
more  than  one  young  wife  a  widow,  Anna  Boje  found  rest, 
Anna  whose  heart  beat  so  passionately  behind  the  quiet  nobility 
of  her  face,  the  shy  purity  of  her  eyes.  After  they  had  sat 
together  some  time  in  the  coffee-room  he  took  her  up  to  her 
room,  and  was  going  away. 

"  Good-night,   gude  wife,"   he   said,   kissing  her. 

"  Good-night,  gude  man,"  said  she,  accepting  the  kiss. 

But  they  could  not  let  each  other  go;  a  flame  burned  up 
within  them  in  whose  happy  glow  they  sat  blissfully  together 
far  into  the  night;  and  as  they  sat  Anna  thought:  "  Kai  Jans 
would  never  have  done  for  me  —  think  how  he  broods  and  tor- 


204  HOLYLAND 

tures  himself.  No,  I  am  in  the  Holyland  now!  "  she  laughed 
softly. 

Next  evening  they  went  by  train  to  Hilligenlei,  arriving 
in  the  dark.  Pe  and  Anna  walked  on  in  front:  Pete  and  Kai 
behind.  When  they  reached  the  turning  from  the  station  road 
into  the  harbour  street  Kai  broke  the  long  silence  by  saying 
"Tell  me  —  what  did  you  think  of  when  you  jumped  over- 
board yesterday  afternoon?  I  want  so  much  to  know?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  Pete  in  his  quick  fashion. 
"What  did  I  think  of?  Money,  of  course.  That  jump 
earned  me  at  least  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds.  Money 
and  advancement,  that's  what  I  thought  of." 

"  You  did  not  think  of  anything  else?  I  mean,  the  parlous 
plight  of  the  men  ...  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Pete  in  some  astonishment.  "  No,  I  didn't  think 
about  that.  By  sailing  away  from  Heligoland  in  that  leaky 
ship  I  put  them  in  a  much  more  dangerous  plight.  No,  I 
thought  of  the  value  of  the  ship  and  the  cargo.  I  thought  of 
myself,  that  is  to  say." 

"  What  about  those  two  men  who  were  drowned  ?  Those 
two  boys  are  being  tossed  up  and  down  by  the  waves  now." 

"What  has  that  got  to  do  with  me?"  said  Pete  in  angry 
surprise.  "They  chose  to  come!" 

"  Yes,  because  they  trusted  you." 

'  Trusted  me !     Nonsense.     They  wanted  the  money." 

"  Indeed,"  said  Kai,  turning  away. 

At  that  moment  a  man  came  up  to  them  whom  neither  of 
them  recognized  in  the  darkness. 

"  Have  you  heard  about  the  death  of  the  young  Mecklen- 
burger  ?  The  sixth  man  who  went  down  at  the  same  time 
told  us.  He  said  '  Boys,  let  us  pray,'  and  then  he  recommended 
his  soul  to  God,  and  begged  for  a  speedy  death.  Here  in  Hilli- 
genlei one  hears  such  a  lot  of  bosh  about  '  Holyland,'  ever- 
lastingly '  Holyland  ' :  seriously  in  church  and  jestingly  on 
the  skittle  ground ;  but  this  .  .  .  this  seemed  to  me  a  real 
leap  out  of  darkness  and  terror  right  into  the  '  Holyland.'  " 
With  these  words  the  man  went  on  his  way. 

"  That  was  good !  "  cried  Kai  Jans  aloud.  "  Oh,  that  was 
good."  And  from  the  sound  of  his  voice  it  was  audible  that 
the  lump  in  his  throat  had  gone.  He  went  down  the  harbour 
street  without  a  word  to  Pete. 


HOLYLAND  205 

Pe  Ontjes  and  Anna  had  gone  on  ahead;  they  found  the 
mother  sitting  at  the  machine. 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  Pe.  "  We've  made  peace,  and  the 
wedding  is  to  be  in  four  weeks,  mother!  " 

Anna  took  her  mother's  hand,  and,  holding  it  fast  in  her 
own,  said  in  a  gentle  and  affectionate  voice:  "We  would 
stay  with  you,  mother,  but  there  is  someone  outside  who  wants 
you:  whom  you  haven't  seen  these  two  years.  So  we  are 
going  across  to  Uncle  Lau's."  They  went  out  by  the  kitchen 
door. 

"Someone  for  me?"  said  Hella  Boje;  "someone  who  has 
come  with  you  ?  "  With  trembling  knees  she  went  along  the 
passage,  and,  finding  no  one  there,  opened  the  door  and  looked 
out  into  the  darkness.  She  was  about  middle  height,  bent 
already  by  anxiety  about  her  children,  and  by  sitting  at  the 
machine.  On  the  damp,  windy  street  lay  the  last  leaves  from 
the  chestnuts.  "  Pete !  "  she  said.  He  came  to  her  across  the 
street,  put  his  arm  round  her,  and  went  in  with  her,  stroking 
her  hair.  She  wept  with  joy.  "  Oh,  my  boy !  To  think  of 
having  you  again !  " 

"  Yes,  mother  —  and  just  think.  .  .  ."  He  told  her  of  his 
good  fortune,  saying  nothing  about  his  leap  into  the  sea.  She 
rejoiced  indeed.  "  Oh,"  she  cried,  "  now  you  will  be  often  on 
shore." 

"  I  shall  come  to  Hilligenlei  twice  a  year  at  least.  You 
shall  have  some  satisfaction  from  your  eldest !  " 

"  Oh,  Pete,  I've  always  had  that  —  always." 

'  Now,  then,  have  you  sat  at  the  machine  all  day?" 

"  Oh,  no ;   not  all  the  time." 

"  I'm  not  so  sure,"  said  he;  "  you're  worn  out  and  look  any- 
thing but  well.  Anna  is  as  good  as  married.  I'll  look  after 
Hett.  Heinke  is  a  clever  girl,  and  will  earn  her  living  yet. 
.  .  .  I'll  tell  you  what  .  .  .  there's  room  in  the  loft,  isn't 
there?"  And,  before  she  knew  what  he  was  about,  he  had 
seized  on  the  heavy  machine,  lifted  it  up,  and  carried  it  out 
of  the  room  and  up  the  stairs,  calling  out  "  Your  day  is  over 
—  you've  done  your  work !  " 

In  her  joy  Hella  Boje  did  not  know  whether  to  laugh  or  cry; 
hot  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes. 

When  he  came  down  again,  and  was  going  into  the  kitchen 
with  his  mother,  a  silvery  voice  rang  out  as  the  door  blew 


206  HOLYLAND 

open :  "  Oh,  mother,  Kai  Jans  has  been  home  from  Berlin 
since  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  he  went  to  Cuxhaven  with 
Anna  and  Pe  Ontjes!  And  Anna  is  engaged  to  Pe  —  and  I 
knew  nothing  of  it  all.  And  now  there's  something  else 
.  .  .  but  nobody  tells  me  anything." 

As  he  came  out  of  the  dark  passage  to  meet  her  she  stood 
in  the  bright  light  of  the  door.  He  saw  how  she  drew  up  her 
tall  figure  as  she  looked  at  the  strange  man  with  the  shy  awk- 
wardness of  sixteen  in  her  grey  eyes. 

"Heinke!"  he  said. 

Then  she  recognised  and  threw  her  arms  round  his  neck 
with  a  cry  of  joy,  pressing  close  up  to  him.  He  stroked  her 
hair  and  drew  her  into  the  room,  shutting  the  door  behind 
him.  She  looked  at  him  shyly,  passing  her  hand  softly  over  his 
sleeve.  "  How  different  you  look!  and  a  beard!  Oh,  where's 
the  machine  ?  " 

He  told  her  of  his  good  fortune,  and  how  their  mother  was 
not  to  work  at  the  machine  any  more. 

"  Really!  And  the  great  Pe  Ontjes  is  to  be  my  brother-in- 
law!  Think!  brother-in-law!"  She  laughed.  "It's  a  good 
thing  I  have  always  called  him  by  his  Christian  name,  or  it 
would  be  awkward  to  begin  now.  Really!  And  when  are 
they  to  be  married?" 

"  In  four  weeks." 

"  In  four  weeks?  "  She  lost  herself  in  thought.  "  Do  you 
know,"  she  said,  "  Kai  will  have  his  examination  soon  now. 
He  is  going  to  be  a  clergyman ;  and  that's  right,  I  think." 

"  You  are  friends,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  with  a  gentle  seriousness  in  her  tone.  "  He 
has  always  been  very  good  to  me.  I  have  had  heaps  of  letters 
and  postcards  from  him.  We  find  an  extraordinary  pleasure 
in  talking  to  one  another." 

"  But  what  do  you  think  of  his  search  for  the  sanctuary,  or 
what  is  it  he  calls  it?  —  the  Holyland?" 

She  drew  her  eyebrows  together,  and  looked  pensively  at 
the  ground.  "Yes,  what  can  one  say?  I'll  tell  you  what  I 
think.  I  think  he  is  a  good  and  clever  man,  and  that's 
enough." 

"  Well,  go  and  say  '  How  do  you  do?  '  to  him,  then."  She 
went. 

He  remained  alone  in  the  room  for  some  time.     He  looked 


HOLYLAND  207 

around  and  found  everything  in  its  accustomed  place;  then 
a  sensation  of  weariness  after  all  that  he  had  gone  through 
came  over  him.  He  began  to  think  of  the  ship  he  was  to 
inspect,  seeing  in  his  mind's  eye  the  partly  built  craft  and  him- 
self going  all  over  it,  asking  questions,  examining  the  hold. 
And  as  he  stood  there,  watching  the  work,  he  heard  a  sound 
of  clicking  and  pushing  overhead.  "What  can  that  be?" 
he  thought;  "what  sort  of  new  engine  have  they  got  on 
deck?" 

He  got  up,  remembered  where  he  was,  opened  the  door, 
and  shook  his  head  in  great  perplexity  .  .  .  then  with  three 
steps  he  was  upstairs.  His  mother  stood  working  the  machine 
in  the  dim  light  of  the  little  kitchen  lamp,  lost  in  thought. 
She  looked  up  at  him  in  confusion.  "  You  took  it  away  so 
suddenly,  before  I  had  time  to  understand.  I  don't  believe 
I  can  think  now  unless  I  am  sitting  at  the  machine.  ...  I 
have  always  thought  of  your  father  and  you  all  as  I  worked  at 
it."  She  rubbed  its  shining  top  and  burst  into  loud  sobs. 

"Cheer  up,  mummy,"  he  said;  "no,  don't  cry  .  .  .  you 
shall  sit  at  it  two  or  three  hours  a  day  —  but  not  more. 
Come,  now."  But  she  stayed  where  she  was. 

"  Pete  ...  I  have  worried  so  fearfully  over  you  all.  Every 
day  I  have  been  afraid  that  you  might  die  like  your  father 
.  .  .  and  Anna,  Anna  has  gone  through  a  great  deal,  Pete; 
and  Heinke  is  so  quiet  and  reserved ;  and,  Pete,  I  have  never 
talked  to  the  girls  about  it,  but  you  must  know,  in  case  I  were 
suddenly  to  die.  I  love  Hett  so  ...  he  was  the  last  child 
I  had  by  him  .  .  .  but  now,  I  am  so  terribly  afraid  ...  he 
is  not  true  like  you  others  are." 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  and  his  eyes  darkened.  "  Anna  wrote 
to  me  about  it.  But  now  that  I  know  it  will  be  all  right.  I 
shall  be  in  Hamburg  and  can  keep  an  eye  upon  him.  The  boy 
will  turn  out  all  right,  trust  me  for  that!  He  comes  of  a 
good  enough  stock.  Come,  be  of  good  heart!  Think  of  what 
I  have  done  already.  I  shall  do  more  yet.  I  am  going  to 
make  tremendous  efforts.  Forward,  forward !  ever  ahead !  " 

"  Ah,  Pete,"  said  she  thoughtfully,  "  do  you  think  you  will 
find  peace  so?  " 

"  Peace!  "  said  he;  "  what  is  peace?  Don't  talk  to  me  like 
Kai  Jans !  Come,  now  1 " 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

MRS.  BOJE  was  indeed  blessed  in  her  children.  Things 
became  much  brighter  in  the  little  gabled  house  under  the 
chestnuts. 

Anna  Boje  was  a  happy  wife,  with  no  thoughts  save  for 
her  husband  and  the  daily  round  of  household  duties.  In  the 
second  year  she  began  to  grieve  that  no  child  came  to  her. 

She  had  much  to  do  in  her  home,  but  two  or  three  times 
a  week  she  would  go  down  to  the  chestnut  avenue  towards 
evening  and  sit  in  her  old  place,  rather  more  stately  than  of 
old,  and  with  a  new  and  beautiful  peace  in  her  clear,  open 
face.  Her  mother  sat  opposite  her,  sewing,  while  Heinke  was 
busy  in  the  kitchen. 

Now  and  then  the  mother  would  shyly  throw  out  a  brief 
question  over  this  and  that,  and  give  a  brief  word  of  womanly 
counsel.  The  young  wife  made  no  reply,  or  turned  aside  her 
fair  head  as  if  to  say,  "  I  don't  want  to  talk  of  that."  And 
yet  the  mother  knew  that  not  a  word  was  lost  upon  her 
daughter.  When  she  went  home,  and  stretching  up  her  erect 
figure  felt  the  blood  course  swiftly  through  her  veins  as  she 
stepped  out  like  a  lioness,  as  Pe  Ontjes  said,  she  thought, 
"  Who  is  to  have  children  if  not  I  ?  " 

One  evening,  when  they  had  been  married  nearly  two  years, 
her  mother  began  again,  without  looking  up  from  her  knitting, 
"  Tell  me,  my  child  —  I  think  so  much  about  it !  I  will  never 
say  another  word  on  the  subject  —  but,  children  are  part  of  a 
true  marriage.  Tell  me,  you  love  one  another?  " 

"  Mother!  "  said  Anna.  "  What  do  you  think?  Of  course 
we  love  one  another!  " 

"That  is  right,"  said  Hella  Boje;  "but  you  know  —  it  is 
possible  to  love  one  another  too  much."  She  bent  over  the 
work  in  her  lap.  "  Your  father  was  a  man  of  quick,  passionate 
nature,  like  Pete;  but  when  he  took  me  in  his  arms  he  was 
as  calm  as  a  king." 

208 


HOLY  LAND  209 

Anna  said  nothing,  and  pretended  not  to  hear.  But  in  the 
evening,  however,  she  was  alone  with  her  husband,  and  as  she 
lifted  up  her  arms  and  dropped  them  again  in  undoing  and 
spreading  out  her  long,  smooth  hair,  he  came  up  to  her  and 
began  to  play  with  her  hair.  Then,  looking  earnestly  at  him, 
she  said,  "  Wieben  Peters!  You  think  that  it  is  all  right  if 
your  beard  is  yellow  and  your  heart  is  warm,  but  if  you  love 
your  wife  you  must  be  peaceful  and  glorious,  like  a  king!  " 

"Indeed!"  said  he.     "And  what  must  you  be  like?" 

She  cast  a  distrustful  glance  sideways  in  the  mirror,  as  she 
often  did,  and  said,  laughing  and  shaking  her  long  fair  mane, 
"Oh,  I  am  peaceful!" 

So  Anna's  life  went  on.  She  thought  only  of  her  beloved, 
and  her  desire  for  a  child  of  his,  and  her  household  duties,  and 
had  no  thoughts  beyond  —  not  even  for  her  own  people.  Her 
sister  was  almost  a  stranger  to  her. 

Heinke  was  eighteen,  and  looked  after  the  house.  Since 
the  house  was  emptier,  and  they  wanted  more  work,  they  took 
in  two  grammar-school  boys  —  from  Friestadt,  of  course. 
They  slept  in  the  room  with  the  gable,  and  fared  as  if  at 
home.  Mrs.  Boje's  motherly  eyes  spied  out  missing  buttons 
and  worn-out  trousers.  Heinke  encouraged  their  studies  with 
alternate  scoldings  and  sisterly  assistance.  And  she  saw  that 
they  were  well  fed,  for  her  appetite  was  excellent:  she  was 
hungry  and  strong,  and  possessed  plenty  of  self-esteem,  al- 
though she  was  not  so  bad  in  this  respect  as  the  other  Bojes. 

At  this  time  she  had  one  secret  joy.  Kai  Jans,  having  suc- 
cessfully passed  his  examination,  had  come  to  assist  the  parson 
at  Hindorf,  only  two  hours  away  from  Hilligenlei.  Kai  Jans! 

For  fourteen  days  he  helped  the  sick  parson  in  his  lofty 
duties:  he  baptised  and  betrothed,  and  visited  the  sick,  and 
spoke  over  graves,  and  helped  people  in  all  the  relations  of 
life.  Then  on  Sunday  afternoon  he  came  to  Hilligenlei. 

First  he  went  to  his  parents.  They  still  lived  in  the  long 
house,  and  Thomas,  vigorous  in  spite  of  his  sixty  years,  still 
went  daily  to  his  digging.  Mala,  with  her  smooth  hair  and 
clean  apron,  still  waited  in  Ringerang's  kitchen  when  the 
farmers  had  a  dinner  and  the  young  folk  a  dance.  On  Sun- 
days he  would  sit  comfortably  by  the  window,  his  eyeglasses 
perched  on  his  Roman  nose,  reading  the  Bible  or  the  Labour 
Leader,  while  she  sat  opposite  with  her  gentle,  intelligent  face, 


2IO  HOLYLAND 

reading  peacefully  the  stories  in  the  Itzehoe  paper  about  Lady 
Alice  and  Lord  Pancook. 

The  Labour  Party,  of  which  he  was  now  the  doyen,  met 
in  the  hall,  and  from  time  to  time  speakers  came  from  Ham- 
burg to  address  them.  He  attended  regularly,  but  did  not 
believe  all  that  he  heard.  To  his  slow-moving  mind  their  judg- 
ments seemed  too  hasty.  He  accepted  their  criticisms  of  the 
clergy  and  their  condemnation  of  the  existing  condition  of  the 
Church,  for  as  far  as  he  could  see  the  Church  had  always  been 
on  the  side  of  the  well-to-do.  But  when  they  wanted  to 
abolish  not  only  the  Church,  but  religion,  he  could  not  follow 
them.  His  own  experience  and  his  knowledge  of  the  lives  of 
others  taught  him  the  secret  sway  of  holy  and  eternal  powers 
over  and  about  us. 

When  Kai  Jans  came,  his  little  mother  asked  after  his  socks 
and  shirts,  and  how  he  fed  at  the  rectory.  His  father  laid  his 
glasses  on  the  table,  and,  drumming  softly  with  his  fingers  on 
the  window  ledge,  said,  "  I  don't  like  my  glasses  on  when  I 
look  at  people,"  and  asked  about  affairs  in  Hindorf.  He  knew 
most  of  the  people  whom  his  son  mentioned,  and  would  re- 
count what  he  knew  of  the  lives  of  those  whom  his  son  buried, 
and  of  the  ancestors  of  those  whom  he  baptised,  not  recounting 
mere  incidents,  but  searching  for  the  causes  of  events.  Father 
and  son  resembled  each  other  so  much  that  these  experiences 
sank  in  and  gave  to  the  son  the  outlook  upon  life  and  the  world 
of  a  man  of  sixty  years.  He  would  sit  there  for  hours  listening 
to  his  father,  his  eyes  fixed  thoughtfully  on  the  ground,  on 
the  intelligent  face  of  his  father,  or  gazing  out  to  sea  across 
the  harbour  stream.  He  said  little  and  seldom  passed  any 
judgment:  he  used  his  eyes  and  his  ears. 

At  a  time  when  most  young  men  thump  the  table  and  cry 
"  We're  ready ;  examinations  and  pondering  over  things  are 
over  for  us!  "  Kai  Jans  was  beginning  to  feel  that  it  was  all 
a  riddle,  himself,  the  world,  life  in  general.  At  a  time  when 
all  his  friends  were  started  in  life,  when  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  — 
well,  the  great  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  was  really  started  in  life  at  ten 
years  of  age,  when  he  began  to  wear  the  Jutlander's  woollen 
cap!  —  when  Anna  Boje  at  twenty-six  was  a  self-reliant,  full- 
developed  character,  when  Pete  Boje  knew  exactly  what  he 
wanted,  when  Tjark  Dusenschon  had  been  going  for  years 
through  the  streets  of  Hamburg  with  perfect  self-assurance, 


HOLYLAND  211 

Kai  Jans,  like  the  oak,  which  is  the  last  of  all  the  trees  of  the 
forest  to  don  its  green,  because  its  wood  is  the  hardest  of  all, 
Kai  Jans  was  just  beginning  to  put  from  him  the  wild,  un- 
disciplined enthusiasms,  the  exuberant  caprices  of  a  youthful 
intellect,  in  order,  with  the  calm  reflection  that  brings  furrows 
to  the  brow,  to  listen  for  the  murmurs  that  stir  up  among 
the  tree  tops  and  down  in  the  brushwood  of  the  mighty  forest. 
And  at  this  time  when  he  was  growing  to  manhood,  his  best 
helper  was  the  old  navvy,  Thomas  Jans.  He  gave  him  the 
best  inheritance  that  any  man  may  inherit  in  the  experience 
of  a  long  and  earnest  life.  But  while  his  father  stirred  the 
deepest  mysteries  of  the  soul  in  hasty,  tentative  phrases,  Kai 
Jans,  with  the  shy  embarrassment  of  youth  not  yet  confident  of 
itself,  was  silent,  unable  to  argue  with  the  elder  man. 

On  leaving  the  long  house,  he  went,  still  lost  in  thought, 
straight  to  the  little  gabled  house  under  the  chestnuts.  And 
here  he  became  merry;  he  would  sit  cosily  in  the  chair  by  the 
window  and  chat  with  Mrs.  Boje  and  Heinke,  looking  out  into 
the  street,  and  making  jokes  at  the  expense  of  the  passers-by, 
and  this  and  that  in  Hilligenlei,  telling  them  about  Hindorf 
and  the  good  rector,  and  hearing  news  of  his  old  friends. 

"  Pete  was  here  last  week,"  said  Heinke.  "  He  came  in  the 
morning  and  sat  down  in  that  chair  that  you  are  sitting  in  now, 
saying  it  was  so  gloriously  quiet  and  cosy  here  that  he  would 
stay  for  three  days.  He  was  going  to  see  you  in  Hindorf,  or 
take  me  with  you.  But  when  he  saw  that  things  were  all 
right  here,  and  after  he  had  talked  with  Pe  Ontjes  about  the 
price  of  corn,  he  said  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  '  I 
think,  mother,  I  had  better  get  back  to-morrow  morning  early; 
we  have  got  our  hands  full  with  a  new  schooner.'  So  I  went 
with  him  to  the  station  about  five  o'clock.  Do  you  know,  the 
one  who  is  getting  on  the  fastest  of  all  of  you  is  Tjark  Dusen- 
schon!  Pete  says  he  has  a  fortune  already,  and  none  of  you 
have  anything."  She  laughed  in  merry  mockery. 

Kai  Jans  and  Mrs.  Boje  began  to  speak  of  his  childish  days. 
She  tried  to  join  in. 

"  You  be  quiet,"  he  said,  "  you  were  a  baby  at  that  time, 
no  bigger  than  the  leg  of  this  chair!  " 

11  That's  a  lie." 

"  A  lie,  indeed  ?  I  saw  you  when  you  were  only  twelve  days 
old!" 


212  HOLYLAND 

'  That's  not  true,  it's  only  your  boasting.  You  always  talk 
as  if  I  were  your  grandchild ;  there  are  only  eight  years  between 
us,  after  all." 

He  laughed,  enjoying  her  scorn.  She  tried  to  be  really 
angry,  but  casting  a  rapid  glance  at  his  face  and  seeing  how 
full  of  merry  roguishness  it  was,  she  laughed  softly  and  said 
gaily,  "  You  cannot  make  me  angry." 

"  Nor  you  me,"  said  he,  looking  at  her  with  genuine  affec- 
tion in  his  serious  eyes.  She  nodded  to  him  and  bent  again 
over  her  work  to  hide  the  confusion  in  her  eyes. 

When  he  got  up  to  go  he  said,  "  Will  you  come  with  me  to 
Anna's?" 

It  being  Sunday  she  had  time  to  come:  rejoicing  every  time 
they  met  anyone  on  the  road  who  could  see  her  with  him, 
thinking  that  everyone  must  rate  him  as  high  as  she  had  done 
from  her  childhood's  days. 

After  sitting  with  Anna  and  Pe  Ontjes  for  an  hour  or  so, 
she  went  with  him  out  of  the  town  on  to  the  heights.  Here 
the  calm,  gentle  peace  of  evening  on  the  way  to  the  quiet  of  his 
village,  and  the  presence  of  this  pure  young  creature  by  his 
side,  called  forth  from  his  soul  all  his  secret  thoughts  and  as- 
pirations. 

"  There  is  no  one  else  to  whom  I  can  talk  about  these  things: 
you  are  too  young  perhaps,  but  even  if  you  don't  understand 
everything  you  listen  so  sweetly,  and  you  are  so  dear  and  so 
full  of  worldly  wisdom  —  far  more  so  than  I  shall  ever  be- 
come. .  .  .  Heinke,  I  don't  know,  I  really  don't  know  where 
I  am.  ...  I  am  afraid  you  have  always  been  right  in  saying 
that  I  am  unfit  to  be  a  clergyman  —  I  think  I  shall  have  to 
give  it  up  altogether.  .  .  ." 

She  was  silent  for  a  space.  Then,  "  You  don't  believe  what 
you  have  to  say  in  your  sermons  ?  " 

"  Ah,  child,  it  is  not  so  simple  as  that.  I  will  tell  you.  I 
certainly  do  not  believe  the  faith  one  is  taught  first  in  school 
and  then  in  church,  that  as  far  as  I  can  remember  I  have  never 
believed ;  no  conscientious  man  with  any  intelligence  can  be- 
lieve it." 

"  What  do  you  preach  then?  " 

"  Ah,  child,  at  first  that  was  a  great  trouble  to  me.  For  a 
time  I  thought  that  because  I  could  no  longer  accept  the  faith 
of  the  Church  I  must  give  up  Christianity  altogether.  I  was 


HOLYLAND  213 

in  despair;  the  whole  thing  seemed  nonsense  to  me.  Then 
about  a  year  ago  I  had  to  bury  quite  a  little  child.  A  little 
time  before,  an  old  woman  in  the  village  had  told  me  she  had 
lost  first  her  parents,  then  her  husband,  and  then  her  elder 
children,  but  the  hardest  of  all  had  been  the  loss  of  a  child 
that  was  still  at  her  breast.  Thinking  of  this,  I  spoke  to  the 
young  mother  by  the  side  of  the  open  grave,  without  any  text, 
without  saying  a  word  of  the  hard  old  faith,  original  sin,  re- 
demption by  blood  and  the  like,  only  seeking  for  some  words 
of  consolation  .  .  .  and  I  found  it,  at  last  in  this  .  .  .  '  Deliver 
us  from  evil,  For  Thine  is  the  Kingdom.'  .  .  .  And  so  I  preach 
now  as  much  as  I  can  in  the  Saviour's  words,  of  the  childlike, 
tender,  human  elements  in  Christianity,  of  trust  in  God,  cour- 
age, love  of  our  neighbours  and  eternal  hope.  That's  what  I 
preach  about.  But  I  have  no  assurance,  no  sense  of  unity.  I 
am  myself  in  a  state  of  miserable  uncertainty;  the  want  of 
clearness  in  my  thought  is  a  terrible  pain." 

"If  you  preach  what  is  pure  and  lofty,  that  is  enough,"  said 
she.  "  You  should  be  content." 

"  But  I  am  not,"  he  complained.  "  If  I  were  only  like  other 
men!  They  have  their  profession  and  their  hobby  and  play 
with  their  wife  and  children,  while  I  torture  myself  about 
questions  which  no  human  intellect  can  decide." 

She  looked  at  him  with  her  clear,  honest  eyes.  "  You  are 
still  young,"  she  said,  "  you  will  find  some  certain  good  at 
last." 

He  was  utterly  despondent.  "  7  find !  I  am  not  even  fit  to 
be  a  village  priest.  I  stand  before  the  world  like  the  ox  before 
the  stall,  wondering,  wondering,  able  neither  to  go  in  nor  to 
come  out.  However  I  prick  up  my  ears  I  cannot  make  music 
out  of  life  or  the  world." 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  what  you  must  do  ?  "  she  said.  "  You 
must  go  out  into  the  world  again.  You  must  learn  more  and 
see  more;  that  is  what  you  want,  I  think.  If  it  does  nothing 
else,  it  will  pass  the  years  of  restlessness  away." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  have  a  friend  in  Berlin,  a  politician, 
the  son  of  well-to-do  people.  You  and  he  are  the  only  people 
to  whom' I  talk  about  my  troubles.  Once  a  fortnight  he  writes 
to  me,  '  Come  back  here  for  a  few  years.  Three  years  ago  we 
were  both  too  young  and  stupid,  especially  you.  Come  back 
now  and  learn.'  Sometimes  I  think  it  would  be  the  best  thing 


214  HOLYLAND 

to  do.  Then  I  am  afraid  I  am  too  simple-minded  for  scientific 
studies.  .  .  .  Ah,  child,"  he  said,  "  my  gloomy  affairs  will 
make  you  sad  —  let  us  talk  of  other  things." 

She  shook  her  fair  head  and  said  in  her  soft,  melodious  voice, 
"  Tell  me  more,  more !  You  don't  know  how  I  love  listening 
to  you.  If  I  could  only  help  you!  " 

On  the.  Volkersdorf  summit  she  said  goodbye  and  turned 
homewards.  The  way  seemed  to  be  through  a  beautiful  shining 
haze  in  the  happiness  of  the  thought  that  the  dearest,  cleverest 
man  in  all  the  world  had  walked  by  her  side,  laid  in  her  hands 
the  deepest  secrets  of  his  soul.  Her  own  was  still  shrouded  in 
the  dreams  of  youth. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

ANOTHER  year  passed. 

On  a  beautiful  Sunday  in  October,  a  fresh  wind  blowing 
from  the  west,  Anna  went  one  afternoon  to  see  her  mother, 
as  her  custom  was.  Her  mother  heard  her  step  as  she  passed 
under  the  window,  and  recognising  her  daughter,  saw  with  a 
mother's  sharp  eyes  that  there  was  a  difference  in  her  carriage. 
When  her  lovely  visitor  entered,  however,  she  made  no  remark 
but  talked  of  other  matters,  how  Pete  had  written,  Hett  had 
sent  home  his  washing,  Heinke  was  with  a  friend. 

Anna  listened,  looking  now  at  her  mother,  now  out  of  the 
window,  with  something  roguish  in  her  eyes. 

Her  mother  thought,  "  Two  can  play  at  this  game,"  and 
she  went  to  the  chest  of  drawers  that  stood  to  the  right  of 
the  door,  and  kneeling  down  took  out  a  little  bundle  of  linen, 
then,  seating  herself  again,  she  began  to  stitch  a  button  on  to 
one  of  the  tiny  shirts.  Anna  sat  opposite  her,  her  sparkling 
eyes  wandering  from  her  mother's  work  out  to  the  street,  cov- 
ered with  great  red  and  yellow  leaves,  with  great  shining 
brown  fruits  lying  among  them  bursting  out  of  their  skins; 
she  sat  quietly  without  saying  a  word. 

Then  Heinke  came  in  from  her  walk,  nodded  her  dainty 
fair  head,  and  saying  abstractedly,  "  You  there,  Anna,"  went 
up  to  her  mother's  sewing-basket  to  look  for  something.  Seeing 
her  mother's  work  she  went  out  again.  Shortly  afterwards, 
when  Anna  went  out  into  the  passage  on  her  way  home, 
Heinke,  coming  out  of  her  room  with  a  book  in  her  hand,  met 
her.  Anna  took  the  book  from  her,  and  seeing  that  it  was  a 
volume  of  Goethe,  said  in  a  depressed  tone,  "  That  is  over  my 
head,  and  Pe  Ontjes  does  not  care  for  such  things  either.  .  .  . 
It  is  nice  that  you  have  Kai  Jans  for  a  friend ;  he  can  help  you." 
She  laid  the  book  on  the  table. 

Heinke  left  it  there,  saying,  "  I  will  walk  home  with  you." 
When  they  were  outside,  with  a  movement  of  shy  tenderness, 

215 


216  HOLYLAND 

she  put  her  arm  through  her  sister's,  a  thing  she  never  did,  and 
Anna  took  the  hand  that  rested  on  her  arm.  The  two  tall, 
beautiful  women  walked  together  in  silence,  striking  their  feet 
as  they  walked  against  the  ripe  chestnuts  on  the  ground.  As 
if  to  show  her  suppleness,  Anna,  without  letting  go  her  sister's 
arm,  bent  down  to  pick  up  a  burst  chestnut,  out  of  which  the 
shining  brown  fruit  peeped:  lost  in  thought  she  let  Heinke's 
hand  go.  A  few  great  red  leaves  fell  on  either  side  of  them ;  the 
autumn  sky  was  clear  and  high  above  them.  Anna's  thoughts 
oppressed  her,  and  she  began  to  weep  softly. 

"  Heinke,"  she  said,  "  I  have  never  showed  you  that  I  love 
you,  but  I  do  love  you  very  dearly.  .  .  .  You  must  take  your 
soul  in  both  hands  .  .  .  you  don't  know  how  fearful  it  is  to 
let  a  great  love  root  itself  in  one's  soul,  and  then  have  to  rend 
it  out  with  one's  own  hands  when  it  has  grown  there.  .  .  . 
Take  care  you  do  not  grow  to  care  so  for  Kai  Jans." 

Heinke  let  her  fair  head  droop  and  said  softly,  "  I  know 
he  is  fond  of  me  .  .  .  and  -I  am  glad  of  it  —  but  I  have  no 
further  thoughts.  I  am  only  nineteen,  Antje." 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  said  anything,"  said  Anna. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Heinke,  "  I  am  glad  of  it ;  then  I  shall  be 
on  my  guard." 

"  You  are  like  me  in  appearance,"  said  Anna,  "  except  that 
your  eyes  are  softer  and  your  hair  a  shade  darker;  I  expect 
your  nature  will  be  like  mine,  and  on  such  natures  may  fall  an 
agony,  upon  which  may  God  have  mercy !  "  Her  voice  broke 
and  she  wept. 

Heinke  understood  that  her  sister  spoke  of  an  agony  which 
she  herself  had  felt;  she  pressed  her  hand  and  said,  "Don't 
be  afraid  on  my  account.  I  am  happy  in  my  old  friendship 
with  him  and  will  try  to  keep  an  even  more  careful  watch  on 
my  actions  than  I  have  done.  Oh,  I  have  so  many  plans  to 
carry  out !  "  She  laughed  gaily.  "  What  do  I  know  of  such 
tremendous  things  as  Love  and  Marriage?  I  am  still  quite 
happy  as  I  am." 

Anna  grew  calm  once  more.  But  from  this  time  there 
was  more  confidence  between  Heinke  and  her  sister;  she  came 
to  see  her  often  and  helped  her,  as  her  time  grew  near,  in  the 
work  of  the  house.  As  the  year  went  on  she  grew  into  woman- 
hood ;  she  stood  in  her  shy,  trembling  purity  like  a  young  birch 


HOLYLAND  217 

alone  on  the  heath,  stirred  by  no  human  hand,  only  by  wind 
and  rain. 

Kai  Jans  .  .  .  Kai  Jans  did  not  stir  her.  Had  he  awakened 
her,  after  one  short  moment  of  blissful  confusion  she  would 
have  become  his  bride;  she  would  have  cried  out  rapturously, 
"  For  years  I  have  loved  you  beyond  everything  in  the  world." 

But  his  thoughts  were  far,  far  away.  Quite  other  things 
occupied  him.  By  painful  and  obscure  conflict  he  won  his 
way  to  manhood,  learning  in  the  quiet  loneliness  of  the  village 
from  deep  and  scholarly  books,  and  from  the  serious  duties  of 
an  office  which  set  him  in  the  heart  of  the  movement  of  human 
existence.  Sensitive  from  childhood  up  to  all  that  was  natural, 
genuine  and  true,  looking  even  then  with  eyes  like  those  of  the 
first  man  in  astonishment  at  a  world  awry,  now  as  a  man  he 
found  himself  face  to  face  with  reality,  and  found  its  aspect 
at  each  new  examination  more  hideously  unendurable.  The 
utter  confusion  in  each  individual  existence,  the  pettiness  and 
falseness  of  society,  the  miserable  failure  of  the  State,  the 
wooden  and  unmeaning  formulae  of  the  Church,  the  slow, 
bloodstained  progress  of  humanity  rose  before  him  inexplicable 
and  meaningless.  There  was  no  answer  to  his  question  there. 
In  his  need  he  walked  over  the  heath  and  among  the  woods 
around  his  home;  he  went  to  the  Bible  and  studied  more 
learned  books.  But  there  was  no  answer  there. 

Silent,  with  thought-sick  eyes  in  which  the  need  of  his  soul 
had  hung  out  its  signals  of  distress,  he  came  down  to  Hilligen- 
lei.  He  sat  opposite  to  his  father  and  listened  to  his  experiences 
without  finding  any  cheer  in  them;  it  was  all  a  strange  con- 
fusion. Then  he  went  to  Heinke  Boje.  He  did  not  ask  of  her 
to  understand  everything;  he  came  to  her  as  a  big  boy  comes  to 
a  dear,  innocent  friend  when  the  world  and  the  workings  of 
his  conscience  trouble  him.  And  she  found  the  right,  although 
she  had  no  learning,  by  the  insight  of  a  sincere  and  sensitive 
nature. 

"  Do  not  fear,"  she  said ;  "  do  as  your  friend  asks  —  accept 
his  help  and  spend  a  year  or  two  in  Berlin  —  go,  Kai !  We 
can  easily  prove  to  your  parents  that  it  is  wise;  they  will  un- 
derstand, they  are  intelligent." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  think  it  would  be  the  right  thing  for 
me  to  go,  else  I  am  afraid  lest  the  Church  hold  me  fast  in  her 
clutches.  I  want  to  see  with  my  own  eyes  the  state  of  my 


218  HOLYLAND 

people  in  these  disturbed  times,  to  learn  for  myself  what  is 
being  and  can  be  done  to  help  them  through." 

One  day,  when  she  went  up  to  the  heights  with  him,  he 
saw  that  she  was  depressed.  At  first,  when  he  asked  her  about 
it,  she  denied  it;  then  she  admitted  that  her  mother  had  been 
scolding  her  again. 

"  I  cannot  get  on  with  mother,"  she  said ;  "  she  is  always 
talking  of  my  evil  character." 

He  shook  his  head  while  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"  When  I  was  at  church  the  other  day  the  parson  preached 
about  Hell  and  eternal  damnation,  and  I  felt  in  despair.  I 
don't  know  what  to  do  with  myself."  Her  head  drooped  and 
she  wept. 

In  the  midst  of  his  own  trouble  he  was  almost  glad  to  have 
an  opportunity  of  helping  her;  he  talked  to  her  earnestly  and 
encouragingly.  "  Ah,"  he  said,  "  you  must  not  simply  accept 
it  when  the  Church  or  your  parents  or  anyone  says,  '  This  is  a 
sin ;  this  is  wickedness/  or  *  You  are  a  wicked,  extraordinary, 
evil  person.'  I  tell  you  the  misery  which  leads  many  young 
people  to  the  verge  and  even  to  the  actual  commission  of  suicide 
is  very  often  caused  by  the  way  in  which  the  hard  and  unsym- 
pathetic judgment  of  parents  and  relations,  of  the  Church,  of 
society,  of  those  in  authority  over  them  make  the  young,  and 
especially  the  very  best  of  them,  distrustful  of  their  own  nature 
and  full  of  despairing  hatred  ef  themselves,  so  that  their  very 
existence  seems  meaningless,  and  they  themselves  are  embittered 
or  compelled  or  actually  driven  to  throw  away  their  lives. 
Hold  your  head  high,  Heinke  Boje;  dear  child  of  the  sunny 
day,  don't  mind  how  the  owls  hoot  at  you!  Have  you  not 
good  blood  in  your  veins?  Did  not  your  father  spring  from 
the  ancient  race  of  Todi  and  your  mother  from  the  tall,  long- 
limbed  Viromandui?  Oh,  Heinke,  be  proud  of  your  appear- 
ance and  of  your  nature;  believe  in  it  and  develop  it!  Believe 
that  there  is  much  in  you  that  is  good  and  noble  —  that  belief 
is  a  hundred  times  better  than  the  doctrine  of  the  Church 
which  damns  us  with  the  fires  of  Hell.  Dear  Heinke,  there 
is  no  original  sin!  There  is  original  good  and  original  evil. 
There  is  original  evil  in  you.  You  are  rather  too  sensitive,  rather 
too  easy-going,  and  your  nose  is  a  shade  too  pointed ;  but  there 
is  more  of  original  good  in  you  —  oh,  a  mass  of  it,  from  your 
long  fair  hair  to  your  dainty  ankles,  to  say  nothing  of  your 


HOLYLAND  219 

precious  soul  and  your  dear  spirit!  So  please  me  by  having 
confidence  in  yourself.  Think  that  the  Saviour  Himself  says 
of  you  in  your  youth,  '  Let  her  pass,  she  is  not  far  from  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven.'  w 

A  ray  of  brilliant  happiness  passed  over  Heinke's  tender 
face,  and  God  gave  dreaming  youth  the  right  word  at  the  right 
moment  —  oh,  Heinke,  you  were  beautiful  indeed  at  that  mo- 
ment —  as  she  said  with  laughing  eyes,  "  Ah,  if  I  come  of  a 
good  old  stock  and  am  to  be  satisfied  with  my  character,  let 
your  doubts  and  depressions  go!  Trust  yourself  too,  rec- 
reant!" 

He  looked  at  her  in  astonishment.  "  Ah,  thank  you,"  he 
said. 

"  Go  whither  your  will  calls  you;  believe  it  shall  be  justified 
by  the  end." 

They  parted. 

One  day,  just  after  New  Year,  he  came  from  his  parents' 
house  through  the  rain  and  the  wet  snow  to  Mrs.  Boje  and 
Heinke,  and  told  them  he  was  going  to  Berlin.  He  said 
farewell. 

And  when  Kai  Jans  left  his  room  in  the  rectory  at  Hindorf, 
Heinke  Boje  went  there.  He  had  asked  them  to  allow  this. 
Shyly  as  a  swallow  visiting  a  strange  place  for  the  first  time, 
she  entered  the  long  house  with  the  thatched  roof.  The  first 
thing  she  did  was  to  break  the  mirror  that  hung  to  the  left  of 
the  door,  when  she  tried  to  clean  it;  the  next  was  to  spatter 
the  clergyman's  sermon  with  ink. 

She  began  to  feel  at  home  with  them  when  she  found  that 
they  could  respect  other  people's  nature  and  character,  and  even 
found  pleasure  in  their  differences;  and  gradually  as  she  be- 
came more  confident  she  allowed  her  true  self  to  appear,  and, 
as  Kai  Jans  had  foretold,  she  began  to  find  happiness  in  being 
with  them,  and  to  find  joy  and  peace  in  herself,  and  to  venture 
to  put  in  a  shrewd  word  or  a  jest  now  and  then.  She  aston- 
ished herself,  and  used  to  say  to  herself,  "  Now,  Heinke  Boje, 
what  a  good,  clever  child  you  are.  Take  care,  you're  driving 
your  own  team  now,  a  young  one  —  so  take  care !  " 

In  the  little  room  facing  south-east,  from  which  one  can  see 
far  and  wide  over  the  fens,  she  read  the  letters  that  Kai  Jans 
wrote  to  her,  and  answered  them;  and  she  read  the  beautiful 


220  HOLYLAND 

great  books  that  had  once  been  her  father's  joy,  and  understood 
them.  And  the  clergyman  helped  her. 

Anna  Boje  bore  her  first  child  about  midnight  in  the  begin- 
ning of  May  in  the  south-west  room  looking  out  on  the  Dyke, 
in  the  house  which  Pe  Ontjes  Lau  had  bought  from  Reimers, 
after  she  had  spent  the  day  in  seeing  after  all  the  cases  of  her 
household.  Only  her  mother  stood  by  her  bed  and  helped 
with  peaceful  care.  She  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  Rieke 
Thomson. 

As  her  eyes  wandered  round  the  room  in  the  time  of  stress 
they  rested  on  the  ship  which  hung  from  the  roof  over  the 
chest  of  drawers,  and  she  said  to  her  mother,  "  If  all  goes 
M'ell,  Pe  Ontjes  must  send  the  news  to  Torril  Torrilsen,  that 
he  may  rejoice  with  us." 

Ten  days  later,  when  for  the  first  time  she  had  the  un- 
speakable joy  of  tending  her  child  herself,  Heinke  came  over 
from  Hindorf  on  foot  to  see  the  baby.  She  had  just  sat  down 
after  looking  at  it  with  shy,  silent  wonder,  when  Kassen  Wed- 
derkop  came  in.  He  considerately  lowered  his  voice  at  first, 
but  soon  forgot  and  shouted,  suddenly  lapsing  again  into  a 
whisper,  like  a  boy  falling  on  to  a  pile  of  soft  straw. 

Pe  Ontjes,  in  spite  of  his  young  fatherhood,  was  in  a  state 
of  great  irritation  because  a  smack  laden  with  barley  for  him 
was  stuck  on  the  sandbank.  "  I  wish  I  could  sling  up  the 
mayor  and  the  fat  alderman  on  to  the  smack  and  let  them  bob 
up  and  down  in  the  water." 

"  If  so,  sling  up  some  more,"  said  Wedderkop.  "  The  mayor 
is  certainly  a  wretched  creature,  a  kind  of  ducal  edition  of  a 
fool,  so  vain  that  he  can  never  judge  anything  on  its  merits, 
but  always  thinks  what  sort  of  figure  he  will  cut.  But  the 
real  masters  of  Hillieenlei  are  not  the  mayor  or  aldermen,  but 
people  like  Heine  Wulk  and  Birnbaum,  the  publican.  They 
teach  the  town  and  give  it  its  opinions.  Yes,  the  real  rulers 
of  Hilligenlei  are  Heine  Wulk,  with  his  ill-conditioned  news- 
paper, and  Birnbaum,  who  not  only  supplies  beer,  but  distils 
with  it  into  the  minds  of  those  who  go  near  him  his  low  and 
vulgar  views  on  God  and  the  world,  and  everything  that  is 
good  or  lofty." 

"Do  you  ever  go  to  the  club?"  said   Pe  Ontjes  bitterly. 

"  I  was  there  the  other  day,"  said  Wedderkop.  "  They 
were  talking  about  mice.  Everyone  present  told  his  own  mouse 


HOLYLAND  221 

story,  his  peculiar  property  and  pride ;  the  others  leant  forward, 
gazing  at  the  story-teller,  not  from  any  interest  in  the  tale, 
which  they  all  knew  already,  but  burning  with  eagerness  to 
tell  their  own  story.  Suddenly  before  the  story-teller  could 
bring  his  mouse  into  safety,  another  leapt  on  to  the  stage,  and 
bit  off  its  tail;  and  so  it  went  round.  Then  they  got  on  to 
politics." 

"What  are  their  views  there?" 

"  Do  you  know  they  look  at  things  from  the  point  of  view 
of  1875!  Everything  is  dismissed  as  'Bismarck's  three  great 
mistakes.'  And  then  there's  a  phrase,  a  kind  of  joke  they  are 
always  quoting.  They  say,  '  Our  future  lies  on  the  water? 
No,  mark,  it  lies  in  the  water  now!'  This  joke,  unlike  the 
mouse  stories,  each  of  which  is  the  property  of  a  single  mem- 
ber, is  common  club  property.  When  a  new  member  or  a 
stranger  comes  to  the  club,  someone  is  sure  to  tell  him  this  bon 
mot,  looking  at  all  the  other  members,  his  empty,  arrogant 
eyes  meeting  theirs,  as  empty  and  as  arrogant  as  his  own. 
After  that  they  told  all  sort  of  anecdotes,  nearly  all  of  them 
of  a  risque  description.  I  tell  you,  Pe  Ontjes,  these  anecdotes 
are  a  pest  that  corrupts  far  and  wide;  they  rob  work  of  its 
serious  meaning,  and  drive  all  sense  of  reverence  out  of  life. 
There  they  sit  in  the  club,  the  old  fathers  of  families,  side  by 
side  with  the  young  unmarried  men,  laughing  at  vulgar  jokes 
and  ruining  not  only  their  own  character,  but  that  of  all  who 
listen  to  them." 

"  But  the  artisans,"  said  Heinke  intelligently ;  "  they  are 
sound." 

"Oh!  the  artisans!"  said  Kassen.  "Excuse  me,  Anna  — 
those  confounded  Koreans !  Look  here !  "  he  said  in  a  whisper, 
"  I  spent  some  time  to-day  in  watching  my  carpenter  standing 
over  his  peas  and  trying  to  fasten  a  dead  crow  to  a  post  to 
frighten  away  the  birds.  He  spent  the  whole  morning  in 
doing  it!  If  you  order  anything  from  him  the  most  you  can 
hope  for  is  to  get  something  which  is  not  what  you  wanted  in 
the  course  of  a  few  months.  The  artisans  are  no  good.  They 
haven't  the  least  desire  for  progress.  If  they  ever  have  a  vague 
idea  of  what  a  wretched,  narrow  existence  they  lead,  all  they  do 
is  to  call  a  meeting  of  their  goose  club  or  benefit  society,  at 
which  they  are  all  at  sixes  and  sevens,  and  do  nothing  but  abuse 
one  another,  and  the  president,  Jenkner,  the  saddler,  has  to  be 


222  HOLYLAND 

escorted  home  in  the  evening.  They  look  up  to  the  fool  of  a 
mayor  or  to  some  lazy  fellow  from  the  university  as  an  author- 
ity, without  understanding  that  the  power  of  honest  work  can 
effect  far  more  than  indolent  learning." 

"Then  there  is  no  good  in  Hilligenlei!  "  said  Heinke. 

"  Well,  Heinke,  there  are  still  the  labourers.  There  is  the 
most  chance  of  finding  good  men  and  true  among  them.  What- 
ever one  may  think  of  details,  they  at  least  have  a  lofty  ideal  if 
they  would  only  keep  to  it,  but  they  don't.  They  cannot  agree 
among  themselves.  There  is  more  envy  among  workmen  than 
in  any  other  class.  Yes ;  such  are  the  citizens  of  Hilligenlei  — 
a  pack  of  fools  and  well-meaning  sluggards!  Good  Heavens! 
Pe  Ontjes  —  excuse  me,  Anna  —  when  I  was  a  young  fellow 
of  seventeen,  although  I  was  only  the  son  of  a  small  farmer, 
how  I  strove  to  find  some  way  of , raising  myself!  With  what 
eagerness  I  looked  for  my  little  talent  and  tried  to  make  the 
most  of  it  when  I  had  found  it!  And  you,  Pe,  and  Pete,  how 
you  struggled !  I  tell  you  what,  Pe  —  Daniel  Peters'  time  of 
office  will  be  up  in  six  years,  and  you  must  be  mayor  of  Hilli- 
genlei." 

"  I!  "  said  Pe  in  horror.  "  I,  mayor  of  Hilligenlei!  I,  the 
gooseherd !  No,  thank  you.  I  am  a  fox !  " 

"You  a  fox!"  said  Anna  mockingly.     "A  lion,  rather!" 

This  tone  in  her  voice  annoyed  him.  "  I  am  too  stupid  for  a 
fox,  I  suppose!  " 

"  Come!  don't  be  angry!  "  said  she. 

At  that  moment  Heinke,  coming  out  of  the  room  where  she 
had  been  sitting  by  the  cradle,  observed  to  Anna  that  she  saw 
the  postman  coming.  Anna  went  out  and  returned  with  an 
open  letter  in  her  hand,  smiling  as  she  read  it.  "  It's  from 
Pete,"  she  said.  "  He's  sending  baby  its  christening  robe,  and 

—  no!     Just  listen  to  this!    Tjark  Dusenschon  is  coming  here 

—  to  Hilligenlei.     He  has  bought  Dittmar's  house  and  the  big 
shed  behind,  and  —  no!  he  is  going  to  start  a  factory  —  a  huge 
sausage  factory,  Pete  says!  " 

"  Hullo !  "  said  Wedderkop. 

"A  factory!"  said  Heinke. 

'  There's  nothing  surprising  in  that,"  said  Pe  Ontjes 
calmly.  "  That's  what  one  would  expect  from  Tjark  Dusen-* 
schon.  So  he  is  to  be  a  citizen  of  Hilligenlei,  and  a  factory- 
owner!  " 


HOLYLAND  223 

He  leaned  back  reflectively  in  his  chair. 

Anna  said,  mockingly,  "  That  will  be  a  fine  swindle,  I  can 
tell  you!" 

"A  swindle?"  said  Wedderkop.     "Why  a  swindle?" 

"  Anna  Boje  is  always  ready  with  her  judgments,"  said  Pe 
Ontjes.  "  Listen!  they're  at  it  already!  " 

A  loud  tramping  noise,  like  the  approach  of  an  elephant,  was 
heard  drawing  near.  Anna  had  only  just  time  to  push  aside 
the  best  chair  and  put  a  stronger  one  in  its  place  and  remove 
the  white  table-cloth,  when  Jeff  Buhmann  stood  in  the  door- 
way, in  all  his  sooty  height. 

"  Tjark  Dusenschon  is  there,"  he  said,  breathing  hard  and 
casting  his  black  cap  on  the  ground.  "  I  say  no  more!  He 
is  a  millionaire !  Everything  is  fulfilled !  " 

"What?"  cried  Wedderkop,  staring  in  astonishment  at  the 
apparition. 

"  Everything  that  Rieke  foretold  —  how  Tjark  would  make 
Hilligenlei  great.  The  customs  to  be  removed,  the  harbour 
will  be  regulated,  the  treasure-ship  discovered!  Everything! 
He  has  been  here  in  his  new  clothes,  and  has  bought  Dittmar's 
place,  and  is  staying  now  at  Ringerang's,  and  has  been  to  see 
his  grandmother.  I  can  tell  you,  Stiena  is  simply  dancing! 
When  he  had  come  out  of  her  house  and  was  half-way  up  the 
street,  she  ran  out  and  shouted,  'Tja-ark!  Tja-a-rk!  come 
back  to  your  gran 'ma!  '  I  have  talked  with  him.  Everything 
that  Hule  Beiderwand  foretold  will  be  fulfilled." 

"  Indeed !  "  said  Pe  Ontjes,  rising.  "  And  you  suppose  that 
if  he  comes,  this  factory  owner,  this  Mr.  Dusenschon,  that 
I — ?  I  tell  you,  I  will  turn  him  out.  I  have  had  enough 
trouble  with  the  fellow  in  my  youth."  And  the  mighty  Pe 
Ontjes  Lau  went  to  his  work. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

OF  course,  there  were  people  in  Hilligenlei  who  mockingly 
recalled  the  past  —  who  said  "was  not  Tjark  Dusenschon  the 
illegitimate  grandson  of  that  imbecile  old  woman  who  lived 
in  the  long  house  and  darned  other  people's  stockings?  "  Was 
it  not  Tjark  who  used  to  run  out  in  shirt  sleeves  and  slip- 
pers to  beg  a  supper  from  the  clamfishers?  Was  it  not  Tjark, 
that  tall  creature  who  had  been  clerk  to  Daniel  Peters  at  a 
shilling  a  day,  and  used  to  talk  in  such  a  curiously  stiff  fashion  ? 
So  they  talked,  but  only  before  they  had  seen  Tjark  Dusen- 
schon. 

His  appearance  banished  any  such  thoughts  instantb/. 
There  was  no  use  in  trying  to  recall  them;  they  were  gone, 
never  to  return;  such  was  the  impression  Mr.  Dusenschon 
produced.  He  would  go  his  own  way,  this  calm,  serious  gen- 
tleman, always  clad  in  the  same  well-cut  suit  of  dark  grey, 
the  broad  pocket-lappets  set  well  to  the  sides.  His  clean- 
shaven face  was  thoughtful  as  he  walked  with  measured  gait, 
his  legs  somewhat  bent.  The  former  Tjark  had  had  perfectly 
straight  legs;  now  they  were  somewhat  bent,  and  there  was 
something  wonderfully  respectable,  something  suggestive  of 
solidity,  about  those  bent  legs. 

Who  was  going  to  mistrust  Tjark  Dusenschon?  Daniel 
Peters?  The  first  day,  after  buying  Dittmar's  great  empty 
shed,  he  went  to  Daniel  Peters'  and  met  there  the  two  fat  old 
aldermen.  He  spoke  of  his  hard  youth  in  beautiful,  appealing 
accents,  his  eyes  glistening  with  coming  tears,  and,  passing 
rapidly  over  the  three  years  which  he  had  worked  in  that 
house  under  Daniel  Peters,  he  recounted  how  he  had  worked 
his  way  up  in  Hamburg,  and  then,  by  speculating  in  landed 
property  with  his  modest  capital,  had  acquired  a  considerable 
fortune.  Looking  back  now,  from  the  summit  of  his  career,  so 
to  speak,  on  its  poor  beginning,  he  had  conceived  the  idea  of, 
if  possible,  doing  some  service  to  his  native  town  —  an  idea 

224 


HOLYLAND  225 

in  which  he  was  encouraged  by  the  fact  that  the  affairs  of 
Hilligenlei  were  directed  by  men  who  could  understand  the 
difficulties  of  a  small  town  in  these  hard  times.  And  so  he 
went  on  to  develop  his  idea  of  a  sausage  manufactory. 

Daniel  Peters  listened  respectfully  until  it  came  to  his  own 
praises.  Then  he  listened  no  more,  but  began  to  stroke  his 
silky  moustache  and  imagine  the  speech  he  should  make  when 
the  town  gave  their  benefactors,  himself,  and  Dusenschon  a 
torchlight  procession.  The  torches  shone,  and  he  stood  on  the 
steps  of  the  town  hall,  "  Gentlemen,  it  was  a  great  hour  in 
the  history  of  the  good  old  town  when  Mr.  Dusenschon  ap- 
peared upon  its  scene,  and  again  a  great  hour  when  he  entered 
my  office,  and  I,  gifted  with  a  mind  able  at  once  to  appreciate 
its  greatness.  ..."  So,  elaborating  his  speech  the  while,  he 
nodded  to  what  Tjark  Dusenschon  said  about  insurance,  first 
and  second  mortgages,  delivery  contracts  for  the  navy,  etc. 

Who  was  going  to  mistrust  Tjark  Dusenschon?  The  arti- 
sans? He  gave  them  employment.  Their  eyes  were  dazzled 
when  he  drew  out  his  big  black  pocket-book  to  make  notes. 
They  were  mad  about  him.  When  he  said  to  Binstien,  the 
bricklayer,  "  Bring  your  bill  with  you  to-morrow,"  or  to 
Sagebock,  the  carpenter,  "  Shall  I  pay  yours  also  ? "  they 
laughed  heartily. 

"  There's  no  hurry,  Mr.  Dusenschon.  The  money  is  safe 
enough  with  you."  And  yet  their  clothes  hung  very  loose  upon 
them,  and  their  wives  said,  "  You  should  get  Dusenschon  to 
pay  you.  I  have  to  get  things  on  credit  from  the  dealer." 
But  they  would  let  themselves  be  pauperised. 

Who  was  going  to  mistrust  Tjark  Dusenschon?  The  well- 
to-do?  In  a  single  quarter  he  was  unanimously  elected  to  the 
club  —  the  first  time  such  a  thing  had  happened.  Other  people 
always  had  some  opponents;  Tjark  Dusenschon  had  none. 
He  came  to  the  club  every  evening  at  the  same  time,  said  little, 
and  drank  less.  When  his  new  motor  was  put  up  in  the  shed 
he  gave  a  little  champagne  breakfast,  laughing  as  usual  in  his 
quiet,  subdued  fashion,  and  himself  drinking  least  of  all.  His 
behaviour  was  marked  by  such  unvarying  tact  that  he  kept  on 
good  terms  even  with  Judge  Drucker,  with  whom  every  single 
member  of  the  club  quarrelled  at  least  once  a  year  because  he 
could  never  forget,  all  day  long,  morning  till  night,  even  in 
his  pyjamas,  that  he  had  been  an  officer  in  the  militia.  And 


226  HOLYLAND 

he  was,  moreover,  a  man  of  mild,  conservative  views,  which 
he  was  fond  of  expressing  with  a  reflective  nod.  "  Any  one 
who  has  had  to  struggle  as  I  have  had  to  win  a  modest  com- 
petency and  the  respect  of  his  fellows  is  opposed  to  headlong 
advance." 

Wild   reports  about  his  past  spread   from  house  to  house. 

Some  said  he  had  won  half  a  million  in  a  lottery;  others 
that  he  showed  his  Hamburg  solicitor  how  to  win  an  im- 
mensely important  suit;  others  that  the  royal  family  from 
whom  he  sprang  had  pushed  him  on;  others,  again,  that  the 
daughter  of  an  admiral  was  in  love  with  him,  and  had  per- 
suaded her  father  to  give  him  the  contracts  for  the  marine; 
and  this  last  report,  in  different  forms,  gained  great  accept- 
ance, and  vastly  strengthened  Tjark  Dusenschon's  position. 

He  certainly  was  magnificent.  For  many  a  man  in  Hilli- 
genlei  it  was  the  moment  of  his  life  when  Tjark  Dusenschon 
showed  him  his  motor,  or  the  bacon-chopper,  or  the  bone- 
breaker,  or  let  him  peep  into  the  great  sausage-kettle. 

These  were  fine  days  for  many  people.  The  independent 
gentlemen  living  in  Faul  Street  spent  the  whole  summer  lean- 
ing over  their  garden  gates,  pipe  in  mouth,  telling  each  other 
the  latest  stories  about  Tjark  Dusenschon.  When  there  was 
anything  really  special  —  the  introduction  of  a  new  machine, 
or  the  use  of  twenty  pigs  instead  of  ten  —  then,  and  on  no 
other  occasion,  they  would  tear  themselves  from  their  gates 
to  come  and  speak  together.  From  five  in  the  afternoon  the 
bars  were  crowded,  ringing  with  talk  of  the  splendid  present 
condition  of  Hilligenlei,  and  the  possibilities  of  its  future. 
Nagel,  the  locksmith,  and  Sagebock,  the  carpenter,  whom  their 
wives  did  not  usually  let  out  of  the  house,  would  pretend  that 
urgent  work  called  them  forth,  and,  sallying  out,  apron  on  and 
tools  in  hand,  would  stand  talking  at  street  corners,  since  they 
had  no  money  to  spend  on  drink. 

At  tea-time  —  that's  to  say,  from  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing —  and  at  coffee-time  —  from  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon 
—  a  perfect  crowd  of  old  women  sat  with  Rieke  Thomson, 
Stiena  Dusenschon  in  the  midst,  swaying  on  her  chair  to  the 
strains  of  a  wondrous  waltz,  her  bonnet-strings  flying;  and 
Rieke  said,  as  she  sat  in  her  big  armchair  and  gazed,  now  into 
the  street,  now  across  the  bay,  "  When  he  was  a  little  boy  — 
a  thing  only  a  year  old  —  I  used  to  say  often  he  would  be 


HOLYLAND  227 

something  remarkable.  The  other  children  that  used  to  play 
about  here  —  Lau  and  Jans  and  the  Bojes  —  were  not  to  be 
compared  with  him." 

No  one  in  Hilligenlei  was  so  busy  as  Heine  Wulk  and  Jeff 
Buhmann.  Their  thoughts  had  always  soared  above  those  of 
the  ordinary  Hilligenleier,  and  now  more  than  ever.  Not  only 
did  Jeff  get  hold  of  a  plan  of  the  great  slaughter-house  at 
Chicago  and  lecture  Tjark  Dusenschon  half-round  the  bay 
about  the  increase  of  his  business  on  the  strength  of  it,  point- 
ing wildly  to  the  sky  with  the  rusty  blade  of  his  knife,  but  he 
expounded  the  idea  that  Tjark  should  employ  some  of  his 
wealth  and  machinery  in  assisting  the  slow  demolition  of  the 
sandbank.  "  If  you  put  in  five  hundred  you'll  get  two  thou- 
sand back."  And,  in  the  rather  shy  manner  in  which  he  always 
approached  his  former  friend,  he  suggested  the  plan. 

It  was  received  with  a  smile.  Meantime,  Heine  Wulk 
wrote  a  long  private  letter  in  his  best  style  to  the  editor  of 
the  geography  used  in  the  schools  of  the  district  requesting 
him  to  insert  in  the  next  edition  under  Hilligenlei  the  words 
"  noted  for  its  sausage  manufactory,"  and  in  a  flowery  leading 
article  referred  to  the  legend  that  a  son  of  Hilligenlei  was 
"  to  make  of  the  town  a  veritable  Holyland." 

It  can  easily  be  understood  that  resistance  to  one  who 
dressed  and  behaved  like  Tjark  Dusenschon  was  not  easy. 
There  is  one,  however  —  one  who  has  known  him  from  child- 
hood —  who  tried  once  in  vain  to  make  an  honest  man  of 
him  —  one  who  will  resist  him ! 

When  Tjark  Dusenschon  appeared,  on  the  second  day,  on 
the  threshold  of  Pe  Ontjes  Lau's  warehouse,  Pe  looked  at  him 
questioningly,  looked  at  his  great  pockets  with  their  lappets, 
and  the  serious,  clean-shaven  face,  and,  getting  up  slowly, 
said,  "Take  a  seat,  Tjark  —  I  am  glad  of  your  success." 
Then,  with  an  awkward  attempt  at  a  jest,  "  Now  you  must 
help  me  to  have  the  harbour  stream  laid  deeper !  " 

A  faint  twinkle  appeared  in  Tjark's  eyes.  '  That  is  what 
I  came  to  talk  to  you  about." 

After  this  he  would  come  once  a  week  towards  evening  to 
Pe  Ontjes'  room  and  chat  pleasantly  of  this  and  that,  confiding 
to  him  that  business  wasn't  going  very  well  yet  —  the  whole 
thing  was  too  small,  too  provisional.  "  At  present  I  can't  put 
any  more  money  into  it,"  he  said,  "  because  the  great  part  of 


228  HOLYLAND 

my  capital  is  invested  in  a  cardboard  factory  in  Berlin,  and 
brings  me  in  very  good  interest." 

Anna  never  appeared  when  Tjark  was  there.  If  she  hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  office  or  the  warehouse  when  he  came  she 
departed  with  a  silent  inclination  of  the  head.  In  her  calm, 
clear  voice  she  would  say,  "  You  and  Kai  have  often  told  me 
what  he  was  like  as  a  boy.  People  do  not  change." 

Pe  Ontjes  looked  at  her  a  trifle  mockingly.  "  What  does 
Mother  Boje  say  of  her  children?  Proud!  proud!  Tjark 
Dusenschon  went  barefoot  as  a  boy.  Anna  Boje  cannot  forget 
that." 

"  Indeed !  "  she  said,  holding  her  head  high  and  fixing  her 
eyes  upon  him.  "And  what  do  the  Bojes  say  to  Kai  Jans?" 

"Oh,  he's  a  student!" 

"Really!"  she  mocked,  and  then  turning,  went  into  the 
sitting-room  and  played  with  her  child. 

A  few  weeks  later  Pe  came  into  the  room  where  she  sat 
with  her  child  and  said,  eagerly,  "  Do  you  know,  dear,  the 
harbour  is  soon  going  to  be  deepened?  Dusenschon  will  see 
it  through.  Though  he  says  very  little  about  it,  the  Govern- 
ment backs  him  up  somehow  or  other.  It  is  desirous  of  help- 
ing our  town,  its  natural  position  being  so  poor,  and  has  there- 
fore authorized  the  establishment  of  his  manufactory,  and 
promised  to  give  him  army  contracts.  And,  anyhow,  I  must 
confess,  after  watching  him  pretty  carefully,  that  there  is  noth- 
ing of  his  former  character  left.  The  last  fifteen  years  have 
made  a  serious  man  of  him." 

Anna's  expression  was  perfectly  unmoved.  "  I  have  never 
known  a  man  really  converted.  You  hear  it  in  church  every 
Sunday,  '  Whoso  is  not  converted  will  go  to  hell,'  but  I  have 
never  met  any  one  who  was  converted.  Some  people  are  said 
to  have  become  pious  and  churchgoers,  but  all  their  wicked- 
nesses are  there,  under  the  cloak  of  piety.  I  have  seen  men 
change  their  coats,  but  never  one  change  his  nature." 

"  Good  Heavens!  "  said  Pe.  "  How  old  are  you?  Twenty- 
seven!  But  you  Bojes  know  everything,  and  can  do  every- 
thing!" 

Her  beautiful  eyes  darkened  with  anger.  The  Bojes  could 
not  endure  any  criticism  of  their  family  or  character.  "  You're 
a  great,  strong  man,"  said  she ;  "  but  any  one  with  a  quicker 
mind  confuses  you  at  once.  I  knew  that  frorp  the  first,  and 


HOLYLAND  229 

feared  it."  She  shut  the  door  behind  her  and  remained 
the  rest  of  the  day  in  the  bedroom  and  kitchen. 

So  Tjark  Dusenschon  was  a  prince  in  Hilligenlei.  When 
all  the  other  towns  that  lie  scattered  along  the  wide  green 
outline  between  Denmark  and  Hamburg  —  Tondern  and 
Husum,  Tonning  and  Meldorf,  Wilster  Krempe  and  Gliick- 
stadt  —  heard  of  the  fortune  'of  Hilligenlei  they  mocked  at 
first.  They  were  always  ready  to  mock  at  Hilligenlei  for  its 
laziness,  and  say  it  would  all  come  to  nothing;  so  they  said, 
"So  Hilligenlei,  the  Holyland,  is  to  be  made  into  sausages!" 

But  when  they  got  to  know  Tjark  Dusenschon,  and  it  was 
explained  how  he  had  the  Government  behind  him,  their  mock- 
ery was  exchanged  for  green-eyed  envy.  This  year,  when  a 
man  from  Hilligenlei  came  to  any  one  of  these  towns,  his  legs 
were  stiffer,  and  his  shoulders  higher,  and  his  voice  shriller 
than  ever  before,  and  he  laughed  in  a  superior  manner  at 
whatever  the  others  said :  even  the  Hamburgers,  who  are  self- 
satisfied  enough.  This  autumn  the  Hilligenlei  merchants  who 
came  to  buy  in  their  stock  —  a  hundred  pounds  of  currants,  or 
pig-iron,  or  whatever  they  wanted  —  were  too  proud  for  words, 
and  when  they  sat  in  front  of  the  Alster  pavilion  drinking 
their  coffee  their  legs  stretched  half-way  down  the  Biirgerstieg. 

Thus,  after  mouldering  away  for  hundreds  of  years,  Hilli- 
genlei at  last  blossomed  forth  again.  The  glorious  old  legend 
of  the  Holyland  seemed  at  last  to  be  gradually  fulfilling  itself 
in  the  guise  of  Tjark  Dusenschon's  sausage  manufactory.  ' 

And  all  this  autumn  the  children  played  as  their  fancy  led 
them  —  in  the  play-places  of  the  moat,  the  harbour,  or  upon 
the  heights.  Under  the  old  lime-trees  by  the  school  the  younger 
boys  ran  after  the  elder,  calling  out  the  names  of  the  girls 
whom  they  worshipped,  and  doing  everything  else  in  their 
power  to  irritate  them,  till  the  elders  turned  round,  chased 
them,  burying  anyone  they  caught  in  the  great  heaps  of  dry 
lime-leaves. 

And  gradually  a  game  began  in  the  little  gabled  house  under 
the  chestnuts  —  the  old  sacred  game  that  only  two  can  play ; 
a  third  spoils  sport. 

Heinke  Boje's  year  of  service  was  over,  and  she  had  come 
home  again.  She  stood  over  the  cooking  by  the  fire,  looked 
after  the  two  schoolboys  in  the  gabled  room,  and  sat  by  the 
window  with  her  knitting  or  mending.  She  was  a  woman 


230  HOLYLAND 

now,  tall  and  stately  in  presence,  quiet  and  gentle  in  her  ways, 
and  missed  the  wider  atmosphere  of  the  rectory  and  her  talks 
with  the  good,  eccentric  clergyman.  Looking  thoughtfully  out 
over  the  dark  water  in  the  moat  she  read  Kai  Jans'  letters  and 
wrote  to  him,  then,  shaking  off  her  dreams,  she  would  go  to 
her  sister  and  say,  "  I  want  to  play  with  baby  a  little." 
She  took  the  child  into  the  sitting-room,  and,  kneeling  down 
to  gaze  at  it,  pressed  it  to  her  breast  and  cuddled  it  tenderly 
as  if  she  could  never  look  enough  at  it. 

Then  she  gave  the  child  back  to  Anna  and  went  home.  On 
the  way  home  and  at  her  work  she  became  quiet  and  peaceful 
again,  and  had  anyone  asked  her,  she  would  have  replied,  as 
she  had  done  two  years  ago,  "  I  am  quite  happy."  What  made 
her  happy  was  the  fact  that  Kai  Jans  was  her  friend,  and  that 
unconsciously  she  cherished  a  sweet  hope. 

So  every  afternoon  about  four  she  sat  at  the  window  bend- 
ing her  head  under  its  weight  of  light-brown  hair  just  as 
Anna  had  done.  The  sixth  form  boys  glanced  sideways  in  at 
the  window  as  they  passed,  but  she  took  no  notice. 

She  was  sitting  thus  by  the  window  one  misty  afternoon  in 
October,  dreaming.  Hearing  the  sound  of  boyish  feet,  she 
looked  up,  for  the  bright  young  faces  pleased  her.  But  when 
she  raised  her  eyes  she  saw  in  the  midst  of  the  eager  herd  of 
boys  a  strange  young  man  with  a  bundle  of  books  under  his 
arm;  and  as  the  boys  looked  in  at  the  window  and  nodded 
to  her  as  usual,  the  young  teacher,  looking  up  also,  saw  the 
proud  face  beneath  the  mass  of  shining  hair,  and  gravely  lifted 
his  cap. 

A  few  days  later,  as  she  was  going  over  to  see  her  sister, 
hatless  and  in  her  apron,  just  as  she  was,  she  met  the  young 
teacher  walking  along,  deep  in  thought,  as  became  a  scholar, 
with  his  eyes  on  the  ground.  He  was  about  her  own  height, 
and  a  certain  simplicity  and  goodness  in  his  appearance  and 
bearing  pleased  her  without  her  being  conscious  of  it.  Hear- 
ing someone  coming  towards  him,  he  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and 
stood  for  the  moment  astounded  by  the  lovely  vision  before 
him.  Recovering  himself  instantly,  he  made  her  a  deep  and 
respectful  bow.  She  looked  at  him  with  the  calm  simplicity 
natural  to  her,  thinking  happily,  "  What  nice,  clever  eyes  he 
has!  and  how  serious  he  looks!" 

As  she  was  returning  home  after  playing  with  Anna's  child 


HOLYLAND  231 

she  met  a  little  second  form  boy  with  whom  she  had  one  of 
her  somewhat  quarrelsome  friendships.  Catching  hold  of  him 
by  the  neck  of  his  coat,  she  asked  how  he  was  getting  on  and 
whether  he  had  anything  to  do  with  the  new  teacher. 

"Which  do  you  mean?"  he  said.  "There  are  two  new 
ones  —  one  thin  and  the  other  stout;  one  black  and  the  other 
fair." 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  ask  because  I'm 
interested  in  the  teachers,  but  in  you." 

"  They're  both  good  —  nearly  all  the  young  teachers  are. 
The  fair-haired  one  —  " 

"  He  isn't  fair  at  all  —  " 

"  Well,  he  isn't  dark,  either." 

"  He  has  brown  hair." 

"  That's  Mr.  Volquardsen.  We  call  him  Peter,  because  he's 
good-tempered,  and  I  think  Peter  is  his  name,  really.  He  only 
teaches  German,  history  and  English.  The  other  day  he 
took  three  fellows  in  the  fifth  into  his  room  and  showed  them 
pictures.  He's  mad  about  pictures.  The  other,  the  black- 
haired  one  —  " 

"  What  do  I  care  about  your  teachers?    Run  away  now!  " 

In  the  next  few  weeks  he  saw  nothing  as  he  passed  but  the 
shining  plaits  of  fair  hair  that  lay  massed  so  sleek  and  neat  on 
her  young  head.  She  only  saw  his  fine,  silver  watch  chain, 
the  hand  that  grasped  his  books,  and  his  loose-limbed  walk. 
"  He's  still  quite  a  boy,"  she  thought.  "  One  could  not  pos- 
sibly marry  anyone  like  that.  Compare  him  with  Kai  Jans  — 
a  real  strong  man !  " 

So  winter  passed,  and  the  first  mild  day  of  early  spring  came 
with  soft,  cautious  feet.  All  the  morning  she  had  felt  a  curi- 
ous restlessness;  strange  thoughts  passed  through  her  mind 
as  she  sang;  she  felt  a  desire  to  dance  or  run  in  the  green 
woods,  or  walk  against  the  fresh,  sunny  breeze  with  Anna's 
child  jumping  in  her  arms. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  she  had  cleared  away,  she  put  on 
her  blue  dress  and  a  thin  black  summer  jacket,  and  walked  up 
to  the  downs,  her  wonderful  joyousness  still  with  her  in  the 
lovely  sunshine  that  filled  the  landscape  before  her. 

As  she  reached  the  heights  a  funeral  passed  on  the  high 
road  between  Volkmersdorf  and  Hilligenlei.  In  front  was  the 
coffin,  on  a  heavy  corn-waggon :  behind,  the  seven  or  eight  carts 


232  HOLYLAND 

of  which  Volkmersdorf  could  boast:  in  the  background  the 
dark  line  of  the  distant  Holstein  woods.  As  she  stood  looking 
down  she  thought  how  beautiful  it  was  to  grow  up  in  a  quiet 
village,  never  wandering  elsewhere,  but  spending  there  the 
days  of  an  innocent  and  laborious  existence  —  to  live  and  to 
die  there,  and  at  last  to  be  buried  on  just  such  a  first  day  of 
spring  in  the  shadow  of  the  venerable  cathedral;  and  the 
thought  increased  her  cheerfulness. 

On  her  way  home,  just  before  she  came  to  the  town,  she 
met  a  little  girl,  who  had  been  wheeling  her  sister  in  a  barrow, 
and  upset  barrow  and  all  in  the  road.  She  laughed  as  she 
helped  the  child  to  put  it  all  to  rights  again. 

She  met  no  one  in  the  town.  Alone  in  the  world,  disturbed 
with  the  joy  of  elevated  thoughts,  she  was  in  touch  with  the 
eternal,  and  in  her  eyes  shone  the  reflection  of  this  inward 
light. 

As  she  turned  into  the  park  she  met  Dete  Greve,  a  little  girl 
of  ten  years  old,  who  smiled  up  at  her,  saying,  "  You  look  like 
Ruth  going  out  to  her  gleaning  in  the  morning." 

"What  makes  you  think  of  that,  child?"  she  said. 

"  There's  a  picture  of  her  at  school." 

Heinke  bent  down,  and,  laying  her  hands  on  the  little 
maiden's  shoulders,  said,  "  I  know  nothing  about  Ruth ;  but 
never  mind,  there's  a  kiss  for  you."  She  was  fond  of  the  child 
with  her  pretty,  artless  ways. 

She  had  turned  under  the  chestnuts,  and  was  already  near 
home,  when  the  young  teacher  came  towards  her.  Lost  in 
thought,  he  did  not  see  her,  but  just  as  he  passed  the  house  he 
turned  his  head  cautiously  to  see  whether  the  fair  head  was  at 
the  window.  An  expression  of  half-comic  anger  crossed  his 
face  when  he  did  not  see  her  there,  and,  like  a  disappointed 
hunter,  he  said,  "  Bah!  "  softly  to  himself,  and  raised  his  eyes 
to  find  her  just  in  front  of  him,  smiling  into  his  face,  the  joy- 
ousness  of  her  soul  sparkling  in  her  eyes  and  radiating  from 
her  presence. 

"  Oh!  "  he  said  confusedly,  "  there  you  are!  "  and,  biting  his 
lips  and  laughing  in  a  rather  embarrassed  manner,  he  went  on 
his  way. 

As  she  went  about  her  work  his  quaint  expression  and 
sudden  flush  rose  constantly  before  her.  She  felt  now  that 
she  knew  not  only  his  face,  but  something  of  his  character  — 


HOLYLAND  233 

at  least  that  there  was  a  roguish  sense  of  humour  mixed  up 
with  his  grave  seriousness  of  purpose.  And  he  had  her  smiling 
beauty  continually  before  him. 

A  week  later  the  mathematical  master,  a  good-tempered 
but  very  punctilious  man,  took  his  young  colleague  aside  one 
day  in  the  passage.  "  You  must  promise  not  to  laugh  at  what 
I  am  going  to  say." 

He  did  so,  although  with  a  sinking  heart. 

The  other  continued :  "I  know  that  you  come  from  a  good 
and  very  respectable  family.  I  expect  your  mother  has  always 
looked  after  her  son's  clothes  and  kept  them  mended  herself, 
whereas  now  you  have  had  to  trust  to  strangers.  Well,  for 
the  last  fortnight  there  has  been  a  piece  of  black  lining  hang- 
ing out  from  the  right-hand  side  of  your  jacket." 

At  first  he  drew  himself  up,  and  said  stiffly  he  would  send 
down  the  fifth  form.  That  was  all  he  had  to  say.  Then  he 
became  angry  and  abused  his  landlady.  Then  he  laughed  and 
asked  the  mathematical  master  whether  he  knew  of  any  good 
lodgings,  and  he  sent  him  to  the  headmaster,  who  mentioned 
several  names,  among  them  that  of  Mrs.  Boje,  the  teacher's 
widow,  who  lived  in  a  little  house  near  the  park.  "  Their 
gable  room  has  been  vacant  since  autumn:  the  woman  is  quiet 
and  cleanly." 

The  same  evening  he  spent  an  hour  walking  up  and  down 
in  the  dark.  Nine  times  he  paced  up  and  down  the  whole 
length  of  the  chestnut  avenue,  deep  in  thought.  He  felt  that 
he  was  about  to  take  a  step  which  would  affect  the  whole 
course  of  his  life.  At  last  he  shook  himself  and  went  in;  the 
sound  of  the  bell  terrified  him,  and  he  looked  gloomily  into 
the  passage. 

The  room  door  opened,  and  Heinke  stood  in  the  circle  of 
light,  thinking,  "  He  is  playing  some  stupid  trick." 

She  invited  him  to  come  in  calmly,  though  with  some  inward 
confusion.  "  Mother  is  not  in,"  she  said. 

He  came  in  and  sat  down  in  her  mother's  comfortable  arm- 
chair, and  told  her,  with  recovered  spirits  and  twinkling  eyes, 
the  unfortunate  incident  of  his  torn  coat.  She  listened  with 
twitching  lips  and  wide-open  eyes,  thinking,  "  What  a  man ! 
he  sits  there  and  talks  to  me  as  if  we  had  known  each  other 
in  pinafores  —  but  he's  so  natural  and  genuine  one  can't  be 
angry."  She  smiled  at  him.  He  had  come  now  to  ask  whether 


234  HOLYLAND 

Mrs.  Boje  would  let  him  the  gable  room,  and  look  after  him 
a  little.  That  was  all  he  wanted.  He  would  have  his  meals 
at  a  restaurant,  and  his  washing  was  sent  home.  She  thought, 
"  Of  course  he  shall  have  the  gable  room.  What  a  nice,  funny 
man !  To  think  of  his  being  an  M.  A.  and  a  teacher." 

"  We  have  only  had  schoolboys  hitherto,"  she  said,  "  never 
a  teacher.  We  are  very  simple  in  our  ways." 

"  That  suits  me  exactly,"  he  said,  looking  round  and  finally 
rising  to  take  Pete's  photograph  from  the  dresser.  After  ex- 
amining it  calmly,  he  said,  "  There  is  a  very  strong  likeness. 
This  is  your  brother  Pete.  I  have  heard  all  about  your  fam- 
ily." Looking  about  him  again,  he  said,  "  It  reminds  me  very 
much  of  my  home,  all  this,  except  that  the  room  there  is  about 
three  times  as  big  as  this.  We  have  a  farm  at  Liibeck.  I  like 
this  house  very  much.  The  gable  is  nice,  and  the  shadows  of 
the  chestnut  leaves  play  on  the  wall  in  the  afternoons." 

"And  the  inhabitants?"  said  Heinke. 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  I  shall  get  on  with  your  mother.  I  saw 
her  once  at  the  window :  that  will  be  easy  enough.  You  don't 
know  how  I  manage  my  mother!  And  you?  I  sha'n't  quarrel 
with  you!  " 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  " 

"  Well,  the  other  day  when  I  made  a  face  at  your  window, 
another  girl  would  have  been  shocked,  or  offended,  or  embar- 
rassed ;  but  you  did  what  your  healthy  mind  suggested,  exactly 
the  right  thing  —  you  laughed  at  me.  You're  always  natural, 
and  find  pleasure  in  natural  things." 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  "  especially  the  stupidest  and  most  trifling 
things." 

"  There  you  are,"  he  said,  enjoying  her  raillery. 

In  the  midst  of  the  conversation  Mrs.  Boje  came  in,  and 
Heinke  went  out  to  get  the  supper  ready.  She  heard  him  go 
out,  with  a  cheerful  good-night,  shortly  afterwards. 

He  came  next  day  with  his  box  of  books  and  the  unfortunate 
jacket,  and  moved  into  the  gable  room.  He  covered  the  walls 
with  his  beloved  pictures,  and  laid  a  number  of  grey  portfolios 
of  them  on  the  table.  And  on  the  third  day  he  made  honour- 
able confession  that  when  Heinke  stood  at  his  door  in  the 
afternoon  with  the  coffee,  she  was  far,  far  more  beautiful  than 
all  the  pictures  he  possessed.  She  saw  that  he  was  not  one  of 
those  connoisseurs  who,  in  their  admiration  of  an  antique 


HOLYLAND  235 

portico,  forget  the  child  on  the  threshold,  and  he  rose  in  her 
esteem. 

Her  mother  said,  "  I  am  sure  he  would  be  just  as  glad  to 
come  down  and  have  his  coffee  with  us." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  she  decisively,  "  he  is  a  very  peculiar  person, 
and  says  he  can  only  drink  his  coffee  among  his  pictures." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  mother. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  "  that's  true,  unfortunately.  He's  always 
talking  nonsense,  but  it's  impossible  to  be  angry  with  him." 

He  drank  his  coffee  quickly,  standing  the  while,  while  she 
stood  before  one  or  other  of  his  admirable  little  pictures,  ex- 
cellent reproductions  of  new  and  old  masterpieces.  He  would 
come  up  to  her  and  explain  the  beauty  of  the  pictures  in  well- 
chosen  words,  telling  her  which  of  them  he  had  seen,  and  re- 
calling a  trip  which  he  had  made  as  far  as  Palermo,  as  a 
student,  two  years  ago.  She  felt  and  understood  what  he  told 
her  about  the  pictures,  and  found  a  wholly  new  and  delight- 
ful pleasure  in  it,  seldom  contradicting  what  he  said.  She 
admired  especially  Lenbach's  portrait  of  Bismarck,  Diirer's 
Knight  with  Death  and  the  Devil  behind  him,  Bocklin's  por- 
trait of  himself,  with  Death  in  the  background  playing  his 
victim's  funeral  chant.  An  Italian  princess  whom  he  greatly 
admired  she  did  not  like.  "  She  has  got  herself  up  with  her 
coronet  and  necklace,  and  is  quite  good  at  present,  but  she 
will  bite  very  soon !  " 

"Well,"  said  he,  "and  what  about  you?  One  is  afraid 
when  one  looks  at  you ;  now  it's  coming,  one  thinks." 

"  What  is  coming?  " 

'  There's  something  in  you  I  don't  know  yet.  ...  I  cannot 
tell,"  he  said  thoughtfully.  He  looked  at  her  with  a  scruti- 
nizing gaze,  as  if  she  were  one  of  his  pictures ;  her  eyes  met  his, 
serious  and  self-possessed  as  ever.  They  puzzled  one  another. 

Later  on  he  had  a  portfolio  open  on  the  table  when  she  came, 
and  they  both  leaned  over  the  table  and  examined  it.  He  did 
not  mind  at  all  whether  the  figures  were  nude  or  draped,  and 
she  saw  no  harm  in  it  either.  With  a  serious  and  understand- 
ing joy  he  showed  her  the  beauties  in  which  his  trained  eye 
rejoiced,  and  she  felt  her  soul  expand,  her  cheeks  flush,  and  her 
breath  come  quickly,  as  she  said,  "  Life  is  ever  so  much  greater 
and  more  beautiful  when  one  can  enjoy  such  things." 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  he  said.     "  And  Nature  most  of  all ;  what 


236  HOLYLAND 

joys  she  has  for  those  who  can  appreciate  her  beauty.  Some 
day  we  must  take  a  long  walk  alone  together,  and  I  will  show 
you  everything  I  see." 

She  nodded  thoughtfully.     "  Lovely,"  she  said. 

"  We  shall  have  splendid  times,  alone  with  you,  Heinke." 

"So,"  she  said,   "you've  got  to  'Heinke'  already!" 

"  Oh,"  said  he,  "  let  me,  when  we  are  alone ;  it  is  such  a 
wonderful  thing  to  think  that  I  can  call  the  most  beautiful 
thing  in  nature  by  a  Christian  name!  " 

"What  is  the  most  beautiful  thing?"  she  laughed. 

"Heinke  Boje!  " 

"  So  I  imagined." 

They  bent  once  more  over  the  portfolio,  and  he  showed 
her  everything,  tracing  the  pictures  with  his  finger.  He  called 
her  Heinke,  and  she  him,  '  Peter '  or  '  Peterkin,'  but  they 
laughed  every  time.  Sometimes  when  they  sat  together,  he 
would  pass  his  arm  through  hers  and  hold  her  wrist ;  sometimes 
she  thought,  "  He  is  a  bold  fellow,  he  does  just  what  he  likes!  " 
but  she  calmed  herself  with  the  thought  that  everything  was 
possible  to  a  pure  and  innocent  heart.  He  never  forgot  him- 
self. He  was  always  a  kind,  teasing  brother,  talking  in  jest 
and  earnest  to  a  pretty  sister.  So  their  intercourse  was  free 
and  harmless,  and  she  allowed  herself  to  enjoy  the  good  she 
found  in  it;  certainly  she  surprised  him,  often  she  contradicted 
him,  and  it  was  no  good  his  opening  his  eyes  wide,  and  getting 
annoyed  and  shaking  her  by  the  wrist. 

She  stayed  exactly  half  an  hour  with  him,  then  got  up  and 
went. 

So  the  ten  weeks  to  Whitsuntide  passed  away,  and  she 
thought,  "  My  life  has  become  quite  rich  and  bright ;  it  is 
lovely,  being  with  him,  with  him  it  is  always  Sunday." 

And  to  herself  she  thought  "  How  funny  that  he  does  not 
want  to  kiss  me!  He  is  only  a  boy,  after  all,  and  I  ought  not 
to  have  such  thoughts.  If  it  were  Kai  Jans!  He  would  treat 
Heinke  Boje  rather  differently!  " 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ABOUT  Whitsuntide  an  unwholesome  breeze  blew  over  the 
land,  and  many  people  fell  sick.  It  filled  the  coffins  in  the 
little  town  of  Hilligenlei,  and  one  of  them  stood  in  the  blue- 
walled  room  in  the  long  houses  where  Kai  Jans  had  lived  as 
a  schoolboy,  and  in  it  his  mother. 

She  had  not  complained  of  much  pain,  but  grew  weaker  and 
weaker,  and  when  she  lay  down  on  the  sixth  day  she  knew 
that  death  was  drawing  near.  While  Thomas  Jans  ran  to 
fetch  a  dram  from  the  chemist  in  the  hope  of  its  giving  relief, 
she  commissioned  Heinke  to  ask  him  to  give  her  love  to  the 
children ;  she  did  not  want  her  husband  to  know  that  the  end 
was  already  drawing  near,  and  she  felt  she  might  not  have  the 
strength  left  to  say  what  she  wanted  later.  So  she  told  Heinke 
also,  that  she  wanted  a  certain  old  woman  to  wash  her ;  no  one 
else  was  to  be  present,  not  even  her  husband ;  and  if,  at  the  time 
of  her  death,  the  child  of  the  new  tenants  of  the  long  house  were 
asleep,  it  was  to  be  wakened,  so  that  no  harm  could  come  to  it. 

About  midnight,  feeling  very  weak,  she  said  to  her  husband 
in  a  low  voice,  "  I  have  always  had  a  difficult  temper,  and  that 
has  made  it  hard  for  all  of  you,  but  I  could  not  help  it.  Now 
I  don't  know  whether  God  will  have  any  place  for  me." 

Then,  for  the  first  time  Thomas  Jans  realised  that  his  wife 
was  leaving  him,  and  he  began  to  weep  bitterly.  When  she 
began  to  sink,  and  gradually  to  pass  away  to  rest,  she  managed, 
in  a  slow,  difficult  voice,  to  speak  a  few  words  about  her  son. 

"  He  has  no  joy  in  the  world.  But  don't  be  sad  about  it, 
father;  it's  better  than  laughing  a  great  deal  .  .  .  only  I  wish 
he  were  near  release  from  it,  as  I  am  now." 

These  were  her  last  words.  Immediately  after  they  were 
uttered  the  heavenly  messenger  bore  away  her  soul  on  his  broad 
pinions. 

Two  days  afterwards  Heinke  Boje  went  to  meet  Kai  Jans 
at  the  station,  and  told  him  about  his  mother's  death.  He 


238  HOLYLAND 

walked  in  silence  by  her  side,  and  she  looked  up  at  him  shyly. 
There  was  more  dignity  in  his  presence  than  of  old,  his  gait 
was  less  hurried,  and  his  eyes  were  full  of  deep  seriousness. 
She  realised  that  now  he  was  a  man;  realised  also  that  his 
thoughts  were  far  away.  It  was  a  year  and  a  half  since  she 
had  seen  him  last. 

When  he  turned  from  the  open  coffin  to  the  window,  his 
father  having  gone  into  the  kitchen  to  see  about  some  supper 
for  him,  she  went  timidly  to  his  side,  and  said,  "  Does  it  grieve 
you  very  much  to  have  lost  your  mother?  " 

He  shook  his  head.  "  No,"  he  said,  in  a  calm,  expression- 
less voice;  "she  was  nearly  seventy  and  had  known  anxiety 
and  hard  work,  but  happiness  also,  and  her  death  was  happy. 
Why  should  I  be  sad?  She  reached  the  end  in  peace;  who 
knows  whether  we  shall  do  as  much,  Heinke?  I  often  thought 
while  she  lived,  that  some  great  misfortune  might  one  day 
come  upon  her,  but  now  she  is  secure.  If  I  am  a  little  sad  in 
spite  of  it  all,  it  is  because  she  did  not  live  to  have  any  satisfac- 
tion in  her  son." 

"  We  did  not  understand  everything  that  she  said  at  the 
last,"  said  Heinke,  "  but  we  could  see  that  she  had  confidence 
in  you.  And  all  who  know  you  have  that,  Kai,  all  of  us.  You 
do  not  go  along  the  level  road  like  other  people,  but  through 
the  thickets  and  over  the  pathless  downs:  but  at  the  last  you 
will  find,  or  make  for  yourself,  a  high  and  beautiful  path." 

"Ah,"  he  said,  stroking  her  hand,  "dear  little  preacher! 
You  always  help  and  comfort  me." 

He  stayed  three  days,  till  after  his  mother's  funeral,  and 
another  day  afterwards:  and  spent  the  last  two  in  the  gable 
room  in  the  little  house  under  the  chestnuts.  It  was  just  be- 
fore Whitsunday,  and  Peter  Volquardsen  had  gone  home  to 
East  Holstein. 

On  his  return  from  the  funeral  he  went  up  into  his  room, 
and  she  soon  came  in  with  his  coffee.  Buried  deep  in  thought 
he  did  not  notice  her  entrance,  then,  when1  she  called  him 
softly  by  his  name  he  roused  himself  and  said,  looking  up  at 
her,  "  You  look  even  prouder  than  you  used !  .  .  .  Heinke, 
your  letters  have  been  a  great  pleasure  to  me,  especially  in  the 
last  three  months ;  they  are  full  of  colour,  and  intelligence,  and 
thought;  the  children's  play  place  has  grown  to  a  wide  coun- 
try." 


HOLYLAND  239 

A  faint  wave  of  pleasure  mantled  in  her  cheek.  "  You 
helped  me  so  much  when  you  told  me  to  trust  my  own  nature ; 
and  the  dear  people  of  Hindorf  helped  me  too.  I  have  to 
thank  you  for  all  that." 

A  sensation  of  burning  love  made  her  eyes  dark  and  misty; 
she  would  have  said  more,  but  she  saw  that  he  was  already 
occupied  with  other  thoughts. 

After  a  time  he  looked  around  the  room  and  said,  "  The 
man  who  lodges  here  seems  to  be  a  person  of  refinement." 

She  told  him  that  he  was  a  nice  young  fellow,  very  well 
educated,  and  how  they  talked  together  evey  day. 

He  looked  at  some  of  the  pictures,  and  said,  "  I  am  very 
fond  of  art  in  every  form,  but  men  interest  me  far  more." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  you  are  like  that.  ...  I  am  different," 
she  went  on  thoughtfully,  "  I  am  not  much  interested  in  strange 
people,  but  I  find  great  joy  in  nature  and  in  art." 

He  looked  at  her  thoughtfully.  "  And  yet  we  are  such  good 
friends." 

"  Just  because  we  are  so  different,  Kai.  Man  seeks  his 
opposite." 

He  did  not  listen,  but  said  half  to  himself,  "  My  own  tem- 
perament and  my  hard  youth  have  made  me  difficult  —  that's 
what  it  is." 

After  a  while  she  began  again. 

"  How  old  are  you  now?  " 

'  Thirty-one,"  he  said. 

"  Thirty-one,"  she  repeated  slowly,  then  hesitatingly  added, 
"  I  am  going  to  be  twenty-two." 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  "  you  could  marry  now." 

She  regarded  him  with  the  frank,  open  gaze  that  was  pecul- 
iar to  her  and  her  sister.  "  Watch  now,  my  eyes ;  here  is  a 
man's  soul  bared  before  you,"  she  seemed  to  think. 

But  he  said  no  more. 

A  vague  melancholy  settled  down  upon  her.  ..."  Now  I 
know,  ...  I  shall  never  be  his  wife,  .  .  .  what  then?  .  .  . 
All  your  thoughts  are  in  Berlin,"  she  said  softly. 

The  word  was  like  a  call  to  arms.  He  woke  up,  and  said 
in  a  voice  full  of  life  and  animation, 

"  You  cannot  imagine  what  a  stir  and  confusion  there  is 
nowadays,  not  only  in  Berlin,  but  all  over  the  country.  Think 
of  the  extraordinary  economic  transformation  that  has  taken 


240  HOLYLAND 

place  within  the  last  thirty  years!  People  are  pouring  from 
the  eastern  Elbe  districts  over  to  Berlin,  Hamburg  and  West- 
phalia. Thousands  of  men,  taking  wives  and  children  with 
them,  are  leaving  their  homes  beneath  the  open  sky,  where  the 
wind  blows  free  across  the  wide  green  fields,  because  they  are 
miserable,  oppressed  and  landless,  and  crowding  into  Berlin. 
And  the  way  they  live  there!  If  they  look  out  of  the  win- 
dows they  see  instead  of  the  green  chestnuts  and  shining  water, 
the  miserable  grey  walls  of  other  houses  with  their  blank  star- 
ing windows.  They  played  as  children  in  the  meadows  and  the 
woods:  their  children  play  in  slums,  where  the  sun  can  never 
penetrate.  You  may  think  from  that  how  dreary  and  confused 
their  minds  are;  with  what  sort  of  feelings  they  regard  the 
landlords,  for  whom  they  have  purchased,  with  the  sweat  of 
their  brow,  the  wide  woods  and  meadows  that  were  once  their 
homes:  or  the  Church  which  sees  them  driven  forth  without 
doing  or  saying  anything  to  help  them:  or  the  rich,  lead- 
ing their  vain,  peacock  existence,  a  few  streets  away  from 
them. 

"  The  great  economic  change  was  followed  hard  by  a  most 
tremendous  religious  upheaval.  Scientific  investigation  has 
undermined  the  very  basis  of  the  two  great  creeds.  Now  they 
are  mere  lay  figures  decked  out  and  propped  up  to  look  as  if 
they  were  alive;  the  great  majority  of  the  people  know  that 
they  are  dead,  and  trouble  no  more  about  them.  Men  have 
no  religion  now,  and  that  robs  them  of  happiness  and  peace 
and  leaves  them  hopeless,  joyless  and  dejected,  without  any  aim 
or  purpose  in  their  lives. 

"  In  every  department  of  life,  of  custom,  of  morality,  the 
same  vague  search  and  questioning  is  going  on.  It  is  the  same 
in  art,  in  education,  in  law,  in  society:  everywhere  the  same. 
.  .  .  Every  hundred  years  there  comes  a  period  of  restlessness, 
a  fever  rages,  a  fever  that  brings  its  own  cure.  The  old  cor- 
ruptions will  be  cleansed  from  the  fevered  blood,  and  instead 
there  will  come  new  blood,  fresh  and  living. 

"  Once  more  our  nation  is  convulsed  by  the  need  of  a  renas- 
cence of  the  three  great  powers,  to  which  itself  gave  birth,  Au- 
thority, Religion,  Custom ;  once  more  it  is  rent  by  the  longing 
to  return  to  nature,  to  the  beauty  of  religion,  of  social  justice, 
and  a  simple  and  genuine  ideal  of  life. 

"  And    Heinke,    the    renascence    has    begun    already,    new 


HOLYLAND  241 

forces  are  already  at  work,  thousands  feel  themselves  already 
in  sight  of  the  Holyland.  There  is  such  a  searching  of  the  Bible, 
such  a  movement  in  the  Government,  such  a  waving  of  the 
standards  of  labour,  such  new  life  in  art  and  education!  But 
it  is  as  yet  an  incoherent  stirring  and  striving;  disturbed  every 
now  and  then  by  the  agonising  dread  that,  after  all,  we  may 
fail  to  find  the  new  road,  and  the  new  and  lovely  land  of  the 
future,  and,  abandoning  the  search,  remain  imprisoned  in  our 
own  dead  formulas.  If  that  were  to  happen  there  would  be  an 
end  of  us  and  of  our  future. 

"  Listen ;  from  my  childish  days  the  world  about  me  has 
seemed  to  me  strange  and  incomprehensible.  Wind  and  sea 
I  could  understand,  meadow  and  wood ;  but  there  was  much 
that  I  failed  to  comprehend  when  I  came  to  human  institu- 
tions, and  the  circumstances  of  human  life.  I  carried  about 
with  me  a  vision  of  another  world,  a  humanity  holy  and  free 
from  sin,  and  this  made  me  reserved  and  isolated  as  a  boy; 
only  sometimes  I  forgot,  I  laid  bare  my  hidden  soul  and  ex- 
pressed my  wonderment.  Then  people  laughed,  Heinke;  ever 
since  I  was  a  child  I  have  seen  mocking  faces  round  me,  as  I 
do  still.  Two  or  three  only,  Pe  and  Anna,  and  you,  and  my 
friend  in  Berlin,  did  not  laugh,  and  they  helped  me  when  I 
was  lonely  and  forsaken. 

"  I  have  felt  sometimes  in  these  last  two  years  as  if  I  were 
working  my  way  through  the  confused  darkness  to  the  light. 
I  begin  to  feel  some  faint  self-confidence :  to  believe  that  perhaps 
I,  who  have  been  so  derided,  may  have  been  right  after  all; 
that  the  great  Dispenser  has  given  me  no  barren  gift,  and  that 
in  my  strangeness  is  something  that  may  bear  good  fruit,  in 
that  to  see  the  world  with  the  eyes  of  a  child  is  to  see  it  more 
clearly  and  more  naturally.  And  so,  following  in  the  path  in 
which  this  new  belief  directs  me,  penetrating  deeper  into  the 
nature  of  things,  reflecting  on  this  confusion,  this  longing  for 
something  beyond,  I  am  resolved  to  show  my  people  how  life 
seems  to  me  who  look  at  it  with  eyes  that  know  the  dykes,  and 
know  the  far-off  seas ;  to  show  them  what  seems  to  me  evil, 
because  it  is  unnatural,  senseless,  out  of  date  and  dead,  and 
the  way  in  which  it  seems  to  me  good  may  be  made  to  come 
out  of  it.  I  should  like  to  write  a  book  on  the  German  Re- 
nascence." 

"  Oh,  do  it,"  she  said  eagerly,  "  it  will  give  you  pleasure. 


242  HOLYLAND 

You  brood  too  much;  speak  out  your  message,  write  it,  un- 
burden your  full  heart  and  you  will  be  happy."  / 

The  brilliancy  of  his  eyes  and  the  beauty  of  his  serious  face 
made  her  marvel.  His  spirits  had  soon  sunk  again. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  but  if  they,  seeing  as  I  do  the  immense 
complexity  and  confusion  of  things,  and  not  knowing  where  to 
begin,  fail  to  find  the  root  of  the  evil,  then  the  old  doubt  comes 
back  —  what  is  the  use  of  undertaking  such  a  monstrous  task? 
Men  will  shrink  from  your  harsh  judgments,  and  refuse  to 
contemplate  such  drastic  reformation.  Is  it  likely  that  you, 
from  the  Hilligenlei  dyke,  can  see  further  than  so  many  great 
men  of  learning  and  authority?  Leave  reform  to  them! 

"  The  idea  of  my  name  being  in  people's  mouths  terrifies 
me.  It  is  so  hard  to  lay  bare  one's  soul,  and  then  stand  by 
while  others  mock  at  it." 

Doubt  and  depression  overcame  him  once  more,  like  a  man 
who  knows  that  even  against  his  will  he  must  do  something 
which  is  bound  to  bring  suffering  upon  him. 

On  the  evening  of  Whitsunday  he  went  away  again.  He 
asked  her  to  look  in  upon  his  father  from  time  to  time  and 
greet  his  friends  from  him. 

"  We  seldom  see  or  hear  from  Pete,"  she  said,  "  he  is  ab- 
sorbed in  his  work,  and  has  no  time  for  us;  he  is  bent  on  get- 
ting on,  and  being  made  senior  inspector,  and  thinks  of  nothing 
else.  I  don't  know,"  she  continued  thoughtfully,  "  whether 
such  a  life  is  right  or  not,  whether  one  gets  the  best  out  of  life 
so." 

He  made  no  reply. 

On  the  way  to  the  station,  passing  by  the  Immenhof,  they 
saw  Tjark  Dusenschon  below,  making  his  leisurely  way  to  his 
shed.  "  He  doesn't  think  as  you  do,"  she  went  on. 

He  answered  sadly,  "  And  yet  I  have  had  no  thoughts  for  my 
old  friends;  hardly  even  for  my  mother,  always  for  other 
things." 

At  the  station  he  pressed  her  hand  hard.  "  Well,  Heinke, 
our  friendship  stands  fast.  If  you  are  ever  in  any  trouble  send 
for  me,  and  I  will  do  the  same.  Wish  me  a  good  journey  and 
a  good  year.  Perhaps  we  may  find  a  piece  of  Hilligenlei, 
Heinke.  I  hope  so." 

These  were  his  parting  words. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

THIS  same  Whitsun-eve,  as  Heinke  came  home,  and  dreanv- 
ing  still,  began  to  take  off  her  best  jacket  in  the  hall,  she  heard 
a  step  she  knew  in  the  gable  room.  Her  jacket  still  half  on, 
she  listened  in  bewilderment.  Then  the  door  opened  above, 
and  he  cried  gaily,  "  Here  I  am." 

"What  has  brought  you  back  so  soon?"  she  replied,  quite 
dumbfounded. 

"  I  have  quarrelled  with  the  old  people,"  he  said,  sitting  on 
the  top  of  the  stairs.  "  They  said  finally,  '  Get  off  to  Hilli- 
genlei  again.'  " 

Her  jacket  still  half  on  she  stood  there,  and  detecting  a  lie, 
demanded  an  answer  on  "  his  word  of  honour." 

He  stuck  to  it  that  his  parents  had  turned  him  out.  "  You 
see,  I  was  melancholy  and  dull,  and  they  said,  '  We  don't  want 
such  a  visitor;  go  back  to  where  you  came  from.'  So  I  man- 
aged just  to  get  here  in  time  for  coffee." 

She  laughed.  "You  are  talking  utter  nonsense!  Be  quiet 
and  I  will  bring  the  coffee." 

She  took  off  her  jacket,  and  singing  softly  —  though  she 
had  no  idea  of  a  tune  —  got  the  coffee  ready  and  brought  it 
up  to  him.  And  as  she  sat  once  more  with  him  and  his  pic- 
tures, the  old  sense  of  happy  contentment  came  over  her  once 
more,  and  she  thought,  "  Kai  Jans  is  a  hero,  the  best  of  men, 
a  dear,  splendid  fellow,  but  he  is  cold  and  always  in  such 
deadly  earnest.  If  I  were  to  live  with  him  I  should  get 
afraid  and  long  to  be  released ;  I  should  never  be  able  to  laugh, 
I  should  always  be  thinking,  '  What  has  he  got  in  his  head 
now?'  Our  children  would  make  me  anxious  till  I  should 
know  how  far  they  were  like  him.  .  .  .  But  the  other  is  sweet 
and  serious,  gay  and  thoughtful  all  in  a  breath,  like  a  fresh 
windy  day  in  spring;  he  is  just  right  for  a  grave  serious  person 
like  me." 

243 


244  HOLYLAND 

She  began  to  laugh  and  tease  him;  they  called  each  other  by 
Christian  names  again. 

"  If  you  don't  behave  better,"  she  said,  "  you  will  be  turned 
out  here  too !  " 

Then  they  arranged  to  take  a  walk  together  early  next  morn- 
ing, the  first  day  of  Whitsuntide.  "  I  have  to  be  back  by  ten," 
she  said,  "  to  cook  the  dinner." 

"  It  doesn't  matter  where  or  how  far  we  go;  we'll  stop 
wherever  we  see  a  nice  place,  and  be  home  by  ten." 

In  the  joy  of  planning,  he  took  hold  of  her  arm  as  usual, 
and  laid  his  hand  on  hers,  and  she,  rejoicing  in  the  precious 
marks  of  friendship,  turned  her  hand  over  so  that  he  could 
hold  it  properly,  and  said,  "  I  am  so  glad  you  are  back,  Pe- 
terkin." 

He  seized  her  hand  and  shook  it  quickly,  as  if  to  seal  the 
fair  friendship.  "  It  is  lovely  being  with  you." 

She  dropped  her  eyes.  "  You  are  so  good  to  me,"  she  said, 
taking  up  a  picture,  only  to  lay  it  down  again  immediately 
and  say,  without  looking  up,  "  I  must  spend  all  the  evening 
doing  things  in  the  house,  so  that  my  being  away  in  the  morn- 
ing may  not  give  mother  anything  to  do.  I  must  go  now." 

After  working  hard  she  went  to  bed,  where  she  lay  awake, 
her  thoughts  busy  with  Kai  Jans.  "  No,"  she  thought,  "  fond 
as  I  am  of  him,  I  do  not  want  him  for  my  husband ;  he  is  too 
serious,  too  restless,  too  strange  altogether."  But  then,  when 
she  thought  that  to-morrow  the  other  would  perhaps  kiss  her, 
and  it  would  be  all  over  with  the  secret  hope  she  had  treasured 
so  long,  that  Kai  Jans  would  one  day  make  her  his  wife,  she 
threw  herself  on  her  side  and  wept  bitterly.  For  an  hour  she 
lay  in  misery,  weeping  and  wrestling  with  her  thoughts.  The 
other  was  dear  and  splendid,  and  she  loved  him  very,  very 
dearly;  but  he  was  a  boy,  not  a  true  man.  She  thought  she 
should  never  find  happiness. 

Before  the  morning  grey  appeared  she  rose,  dressed  rapidly, 
and  went  softly  upstairs  to  wake  him.  As  she  knocked  he 
threw  open  the  door  and  said,  "  Wait  a  minute,  dear.  I  am 
just  ready."  It  did  not  seem  to  trouble  him  in  the  least  that 
he  was  in  his  shirt-sleeves.  She  stayed  on  the  threshold,  watch- 
ing with  a  smile  how  he,  ordinarily  so  calm  and  orderly  in  his 
movements,  rushed  restlessly  about  the  room  looking  for  one 
thing  after  another. 


HOLYLAND  245 

They  went  downstairs  softly,  not  to  wake  her  mother,  and 
so  out. 

It  was  still  quite  dark,  the  air  quite  still.  The  houses  by  the 
park  stood  there  silent,  asleep.  In  front  of  them  the  tall  chest- 
nuts, clad  in  their  green  mantles,  bearing  aloft  their  white 
candles,  stood  still  to  let  the  two  young  people  pass  by,  in  si- 
lence, side  by  side,  their  eyes  on  the  ground  —  the  man  stepping 
out  calmly  as  if  to  meet  a  fair  day  and  life  of  joyous  activity, 
the  girl,  womanlike,  rather  more  thoughtful.  Behind  them 
came  the  first  breath  of  morning,  stirring  in  the  chestnut  tops. 

When  they  had  left  the  town  behind  them  and  were  walk- 
ing in  the  impenetrable  grey  shadow  of  the  thorn-edges  on 
either  side  of  the  way,  he  took  her  hand  and  swung  it  back- 
wards and  forwards,  whistling  as  he  went.  When  that  became 
monotonous  he  put  his  arm  through  hers,  and  they  walked  so, 
he  like  a  younger  brother  by  his  sister's  side. 

"  How  long  have  we  known  each  other?  "  said  he.  "  I  feel 
as  if  I  had  known  you  seven  years  at  least." 

"  Even  more,  I  think!  " 

"  Look!  let's  go  up  this  little  path.  It  doesn't  matter  where 
we  go,  does  it?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

They  went  along  the  dark,  narrow  path  in  complete  silence. 
In  front  of  them  a  little  bird  began  to  sing.  After  two  or 
three  timid  notes  he  was  still  again. 

"  Heinke!  "  he  said,  in  a  strangled  voice,  "  say  something!  " 

"What  shall  I  say?" 

"  Something  nice!  I  have  said  so  many  nice  things  to  you; 
dear  Heinke,  do." 

"  You're  ten  times  as  clever  as  I  am,  Peterkin.  You  have 
told  me  so  often.  If  you  know  anything,  say  it." 

'*  There  is  something  I  want  to  say,  but  I  don't  know  how 
to  begin,  and  I  don't  know  whether  you  want  to  hear  it." 

So  they  went  on  again,  side  by  side,  in  silence,  each  full  of 
restless,  fearful  longing.  From  the  heights  the  morning  breeze 
blew  fresh  towards  them.  At  the  summit,  near  the  path,  there 
lay  in  the  midst  of  the  dusky  meadow  a  mighty  barrow. 

"  Look !  "  said  he.  "  From  that  barrow  we  could  look  east 
and  see  the  whole  country  before  us.  Shall  we  go  up  there  and 
wait  for  the  sun  ?  Look !  there  is  a  ray  of  light  over  by  Volk- 
mersdorf  already." 


246  HOLYLAND 

"  I  had  rather  go  on  and  on  for  ever,"  said  she. 

"  No!  "  said  he.  "  Let  us  go  up  and  wait  for  the  sunrise  — 
and  look!  you  shall  see  him,  suddenly,  in  all  his  glory  — 
please,  let  me  bind  your  eyes." 

She  did  not  want  him  to,  and  snatched  the  handkerchief  out 
of  his  hand,  sorry  to  think  that  the  joy  of  their  being  together 
was  to  come  to  nothing  but  a  stupid  joke.  He  was  only  afraid 
of  her  keen  eyes.  He  implored  her  with  such  a  serious  air  and 
so  charmingly  that  she  had  to  give  way,  and  he  bandaged  her 
eyes  and  led  her  by  the  hand. 

"  My  feet  are  getting  wet  through,"  she  said ;  "  the  grass  is 
so  long  and  wet." 

"  Oh !  don't  think  of  that !  "  he  said  softly. 

"  What  a  curious  voice  you've  got,  Peterkin." 

"That's  no  trifle!"  said  he. 

"What  is  no  trifle?" 

"  You  should  see  what  I  see !  We  have  come  too  early. 
This  field  still  belongs  to  the  dark  night." 

"  Oh,  my  feet  are  wet  through." 

"  Oh,  Heinke  Boje,"  said  he  softly,  "  don't  talk  of  your  feet, 
but  take  care  that  you  don't  let  your  soul  get  cold." 

"  What  a  curious  voice  you've  got,  Peterkin." 

"You  should  see  what  I  see!  To  the  right  and  to  the  left 
of  the  old  pagan  barrow  there  stand  stout  men  in  ancient 
brown  tunics,  and  shoes  of  hide  on  their  feet." 

"  Go  on.  I  am  not  afraid.  They  are  my  ancestors.  The 
race  I  spring  from  has  lived  here  for  ages." 

"  One  of  them  is  coming  near,"  he  said  softly,  "  —  a  nice- 
looking  young  fellow.  Heinke,  do  you  know,  I  think  —  I 
think  he  wants  to  kiss  you,  Heinke!  " 

She  stood  still  and  said,  breathing  hard,  "  Let  him,  if  he  is 
young  and  good-looking."  She  felt  a  hand  on  her  hair  and 
fresh  lips  on  her  mouth. 

"  We  ought  to  have  waited  till  it  was  daylight.  Heinke,  I 
reproach  myself  for  having  let  a  stranger  kiss  you !  " 

They  went  on  in  silence.  When  they  reached  the  summit 
he  put  his  arm  round  her.  '  There's  another  coming!  "  he 
said  softly.  "  Heinke,  what  am  I  to  do?  Am  I  to  knock  him 
down,  or  let  him  kiss  you  ?  " 

"  Is  he  well  made?  "  she  said,  laughing  softly. 

"  Rather  slight,  but  strong  enough." 


HOLYLAND  247 

"Still  rather  boyish?" 

"  Oh,  dear  no!  a  proper  man!  " 

"  What  kind  of  face  has  he  ?  still  rather  boyish  ?  " 

"  Oh,  dear  no!  a  splendid,  manly  face!  " 

"  Then  he  may  kiss  me."  Again  she  felt  the  quick,  shy  lips 
on  her  mouth. 

"  Is  it  nice  ?  "  he  said  softly ;  his  voice  seemed  choked. 

"  I  am  grieved,  Peterkin,"  she  said  in  a  low,  sorrowful  tone, 
"  that  you  allow  strangers  to  kiss  me." 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms  and,  pressing  his  head  against 
her  shoulders,  said,  "  Heinke!  Heinke!  I  love  you  so!  " 

Then  she  took  off  the  bandage  from  her  eyes.  They  let 
each  other  go,  and  gazed  in  silence  over  the  meadows  to  the 
narrow  line  of  wood  in  the  distance  with  the  bank  of  dark-blue 
cloud  behind,  on  which  the  still  invisible  sun  had  laid  down  his 
weapons  —  his  long  shining  sword  and  longer  spear.  They  lay 
glistening  in  supernatural  splendour  on  the  dark  blue  of  the 
clouds,  and  as  the  sun  began  to  rise  the  rim  of  his  golden  shield 
appeared,  and  soon  he  stood  above  the  wood  in  all  his  might, 
light  blazing  forth  from  him,  shining  orange  through  the  blue 
mists  up  to  the  arch  of  heaven,  and  beneath,  the  wide  land 
sleeping  in  holy  peace. 

They  stood  still,  looking  across,  then,  still  silent,  went  back 
to  the  path,  and,  leaving  the  heights  behind  them,  came  down 
to  a  wide  green  field  bathed  in  the  morning  sunlight.  They 
went  on  in  dreamy  silence,  avoiding  each  other's  eyes,  he  gently 
humming  to  himself,  till  after  a  good  quarter  of  an  hour's 
walking  they  reached  a  little  mound  that  stood  up  in  the  midst 
of  the  low,  green  plain. 

Hundreds  of  years  ago,  when  the  green  plain  had  been  a 
bit  of  sea-fen,  a  log  hut  belonging  to  the  lord  had  been  built 
by  this  mound,  as  a  terror  to  the  peasants  round.  After  a  fierce 
struggle  they  had  stormed  and  destroyed  it  by  fire,  and  now 
there  was  no  trace  of  the  fortress,  only  the  soft  green  turf  and 
the  young  oak-trees  standing  round  the  mound,  while  fresh 
spring  flowers  grew  in  the  depression  at  one  side  that  marked 
the  former  site. 

They  sat  down  on  the  grassy  slope  in  the  sunshine. 

Heinke  Boje  clasped  her  knee  with  her  hand  and  gazed,  with- 
out moving,  over  the  green  field  across  to  the  low  heights  from 
which  they  had  come  and  the  square-built  tower  of  Hilligenlei 


248  HOLYLAND 

just  visible  beyond.  Peter  Volquardsen  plucked  all  the  flowers 
within  his  reach  as  he  sat,  and  threw  them  into  her  lap,  looking 
questioningly  into  her  face  each  time  he  did  so.  She  did  not 
stir.  This  lasted  some  time. 

Then,  thinking  that  the  silence  had  lasted  long  enough,  she 
took  up  one  of  the  blossoms,  as  if  still  lost  in  thought,  and, 
pressing  it  against  her  mouth,  looked  up  into  the  expanse  of  sky 
around  them  and  said,  "  Is  my  mouth  quite  yellow?  " 

"  Quite  yellow!  "  he  said. 

"Does  it  matter?"  said  she,  throwing  herself  down  full 
length  on  the  grass  and  shutting  her  eyes. 

Then  he  plucked  up  his  courage,  and,  creeping  up,  kissed 
her. 

At  first  she  thought,  "  I  will  stay  lying  here."  Then  love 
overcame  her,  and,  opening  her  eyes,  she  put  both  hands  on  his 
head  with  a  gesture  of  exquisite  tenderness. 

And  now  their  eyes  met  in  a  long  gaze. 

"  How  beautiful  you  are,"  he  said,  quite  shaken. 

"  I  cannot  look  at  you  enough,"  said  she. 

"  Lie  quite  still,  and  don't  say  anything." 

"  Dear  one!  how  dear  you  are!  " 

So  they  lay  for  a  long  time,  gazing  their  fill,  and  kissing  from 
time  to  time  with  a  shy  and  almost  solemn  rapture. 

Then  they  rose  and  went  home,  hand  in  hand,  dumb  for  the 
most  part,  but  now,  as  they  went,  they  looked  at  each  other 
silently,  and  held  each  other's  hands.  And  when  they  returned 
to  the  lane  he  took  her  in  his  arms  and  kissed  her.  Her  cheeks 
were  pink  and  her  dark-grey  eyes  gleamed. 

"  You  are  a  man,  after  all,"  she  said,  laughing  happily. 
"  Don't  be  angry ;  I  have  really  known  it  all  the  time." 

"  Well,  now  you  must  let  me  go;  people  will  pass." 

They  decided  as  they  went  on  their  way  to  keep  their  secret 
until  autumn,  so  that  they  could  be  together  as  before;  they 
would  only  confide  in  her  mother  and  his  parents. 

When  they  reached  the  house  she  came  with  him  to  the 
stairs.  As  he  stood  on  the  step  she  gave  him  her  hand  and  said 
with  a  deep  seriousness  of  word  and  gesture,  "  Do  you  love 
me,  now?  " 

He  replied  only  "  Yes  —  dear !  "  but  in  his  eyes  there  burned 
such  true  love  that  she  turned  away,  overcome  with  thrilling 
happiness.  Their  hands  were  loth  to  separate. 


HOLYLAND  249 

Then  she  went  into  the  kitchen  and  thought  as  she  got  ready 
the  lunch,  "  If  I  had  only  told  her  as  I  came  in,"  and  hoped 
that  her  mother  might  come  in.  It  was  so  nice  and  dark  in 
the  kitchen.  But  she  did  not.  "  He  is  troubled,  too,"  she 
thought;  "  he  is  writing  to  his  parents." 

At  last  she  had  to  go  in  and  lay  the  table.  Her  mother  was 
knitting  winter  stockings  for  Hett,  and  did  not  look  up.  She 
might  at  least  inquire  how  the  walk  had  gone  off.  She  began 
to  lay  the  table  more  noisily. 

Her  mother  looked  up.  "  What  are  you  doing,  child  — 
you  are  laying  three  places!  Who  is  coming?" 

"  Oh!  "  said  she,  "  he  begged  so  —  he  wants  to  have  lunch 
with  us  to-day." 

"Indeed!     Have  you  got  something  special  for  him?" 

"Oh!  he  won't  mind  about  that.  He  —  he  wants  to  have 
meals  with  me  always !  " 

"  Child !  " 

"  Yes,  mother !    We  —  he  said  to  me  —    Mother,  why  are 


you  crying 


"  Let  me  cry,  childie.     I  don't  know  why." 

"  We  sha'n't  be  married  for  a  long  time  —  two  years  at  least. 
I  want  it  so,  too." 

"Do  his  parents  know?" 

"  No,  they  don't  know,  but  they  suspect.  They  have  nothing 
against  it." 

"  Is  it  all  right  for  him  to  stay  on  here,  then?  " 

"  Till  autumn,  at  least.  And,  mother,  I  want  no  one  to 
know  —  not  even  Anna ;  and  I  want  you  to  let  me  go  up  to 
him  every  day,  as  I  have  done,  for  half  an  hour.  We  are 
sensible  people,  and  we  know  how  to  behave.  I  can't  bear  it 
otherwise." 

And  so  she  brought  him  up  his  coffee  as  of  old.  But  now 
it  was  a  different  matter  —  quite  a  different  matter.  The  cof- 
fee stood  untouched  and  the  pictures  unregarded.  Each  found 
the  other  more  beautiful  than  any  picture. 

He  sat  at  his  desk  and  bent  down  to  her  as  she  knelt  before 
him,  stroking  her  hair  and  kissing  her,  and  saying  again  and 
again  how  he  loved  her.  She  looked  up  to  him  with  her  clear 
eyes  and  listened.  Then  he  lifted  her  up,  and  she  sat  upon  his 
knee,  and  as  she  sat  there  she  let  him  feel  the  beauty  of  her 


±50  HOLYLAND 

youthful  body,  and  gainsaid  him  not,  only  saying  softly,  "  You 
must  be  good." 

He  joyed  in  the  beauty  and  intelligence  of  the  woman  he 
had  won,  and  teased  her,  saying,  "  You  and  your  sister  —  you 
are  really  such  proud,  magnificent  girls;  no  one  dares  approach 
you.  Even  the  mighty  Lau  trembled  in  all  his  limbs  when  he 
was  wooing  her  —  yes,  it's  true;  he  told  me  himself.  But  I 
—  playing  with  you!  I,  a  mere  boy!  Peterkin,  you  are  a 
boy!"' 

She  threw  herself  on  him.  "  You're  no  boy.  You  are  my 
darling  husband." 

This  summer  she  troubled  about  nothing. 

Tjark  Dusenschon's  fortunes  seemed  at  their  zenith.  He 
purchased  the  piece  of  land  behind  the  sheds,  and  got  estimates 
submitted  to  him  for  the  cost  of  construction  of  a  huge  factory. 
Anna  complained  that  Pe  Ontjes  was  being  more  and  more 
drawn  into  the  sphere  of  Dusenschon's  activity,  as  he  main- 
tained that  he  knew  for  certain  that  the  deepening  of  the  har- 
bour stream  would  be  undertaken  in  three  years  at  latest. 
Anna's  face  grew  dark  and  silent. 

"  Pe  lets  himself  be  talked  over,"  she  said,  "  and  that  is  bad 
for  our  future  and  our  child's,  but  it's  worst  of  all  for  me." 

"  How  do  you  mean?  " 

Anna  looked  straight  in  front  of  her  with  a  fixed  stare. 
"  Because  I  cannot  respect  him  any  longer." 

Kai  Jans  wrote  from  Berlin  to  say  that  he  had  actually  begun 
to  work  on  his  book,  but  was  prevented  from  obtaining  any 
wide  or  happy  outlook  by  all  the  individual  misery  that  was 
continually  forced  upon  his  notice.  He  should  never  accom- 
plish anything.  He  did  not  know  what  would  become  of  him. 
At  times  he  felt  inclined  to  go  with  his  friend  to  South  Africa. 
Perhaps,  after  years  of  travel  in  distant,  sunny  lands  he  might 
return  composed  and  mature. 

She  took  the  letter  up  into  the  gable  room  and  showed  it 
to  him  as  she  had  all  the  other  letters.  "  Poor,  dear  man!  " 
she  said,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears.  "  He  has  always  been  so 
good  to  me  —  since  I  was  quite  a  child.  I  owe  him  so  much. 
And  now  he  has  no  joy  in  life,  and  I  cannot  help  him!  " 

"  Have  you  written  to  him  that  you  are  engaged?  " 

She  shook  her  head.    "  No!    I  had  rather  tell  him.    I  don't 


HOLYLAND  251 

know  how  he  will  take  it.  Before  —  yes,  since  I  was  quite  a 
child  —  I  have  often  secretly  thought  that  I  should  be  his  wife 
some  day.  Dear,  good  man!  If  he  could  only  find  someone 
to  love,  that  might  help  him;  but  oh!  she  would  have  to  be  a 
wonderful  person  —  clever  and  beautiful  and  good." 

"  Don't  be  sad  about  it,  anyhow.  It  will  all  come  right  in 
the  end.  Come  here,  Heinke.  Be  good  to  me!  " 

In  July  Anna's  little  boy  was  not  very  well,  and  so  Mrs. 
Boje  spent  some  evenings  away,  sitting  by  the  child's  bedside. 
Then  the  two  had  their  meals  together  in  the  gable  room. 
They  sat  opposite  to  one  another  at  a  square  table,  and  he  said, 
"  My  wife,"  and  pretended  there  was  a  child  sitting  at  each 
side  of  the  table.  She  laughed  and  scolded  him,  and  then  sat 
again  on  his  knee  and  let  him  do  as  he  would. 

One  such  evening  he  unfastened  her  hair  and  sat  for  a  long 
while  gazing  at  her  in  blissful  admiration.  Then,  taking  hold 
of  her  with  both  arms  and  with  earnest  impassioned  eyes  and 
a  constrained  voice,  said,  "  Heinke,  it  is  not  right  for  us  two  — 
to  wait  another  year  before  we  marry." 

She  looked  at  him  with  troubled  eyes.  "No,  Peterkin;  I 
think  so  too;  it  isn't  good." 

"  If  you  can  be  ever  so  careful,  and  don't  mind  living 
quietly  and  simply  with  me,  we  might  have  the  wedding  at  the 
New  Year." 

She  played  with  his  watch  chain,  her  eyes  cast  down.  "  Oh ! 
I  should  love  it !  Darling,  I  am  old  enough  —  I  am  twenty- 
two.  It's  all  your  fault,  Peterkin.  I  was  such  a  quiet,  simple 
girl." 

And  so  they  agreed  to  have  the  wedding  at  the  beginning  of 
the  New  Year. 

They  became  more  calm,  talked  of  how  they  should  manage 
about  their  little  outfit,  and  agreed  on  the  names  of  the  first 
two  children. 

In  these  three  summer  months  Heinke  Boje  became  a  woman, 
and  forgot  Kai  Jans. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

ONE  day,  about  this  time,  Pe  Ontjes  came  to  his  wife  as  she 
was  dressing  her  child,  now  quite  well  again,  and  said, 

"  Do  you  know,  dear,  I  shall  have  to  take  shares  in  Dusen- 
schon's  new  building  scheme ;  it's  going  to  be  a  great  affair." 

She  let  the  child  go  and  looked  at  him  in  amazement.  "  Oh, 
Pe  Ontjes,"  she  said,  "don't.  I  am  ready  to  approve  of  every- 
thing you  do  yourself,  however  dangerous  it  seems  to  me,  but 
don't  do  business  with  this  man !  " 

Her  obstinacy  began  to  annoy  Pe  Ontjes.  "  Our  businesses 
are  very  closely  connected.  Our  customers  are  the  same  people. 
They  come  first  to  me  and  then  to  him.  If  his  business  grows 
mine  must  grow." 

She  shook  her  head  in  gloomy  determination.  "If  you  do 
it,  it  is  all  over  with  us." 

"With  us?"  said  he.  "How  do  you  mean?  With  our 
oread?" 

"Yes,"  said  she;  "and  —  " 

"And  what?"  said  he. 

She  pressed  her  lips  together,  and  her  sombre  thoughts 
clouded  her  eyes.  "  It  is  over  with  my  belief  in  you.  Dusen- 
schon  is  a  bad  man." 

"  You're  the  only  person  in   Hilligenlei  who  says  so." 

"  That  is  not  true.  Old  Thomas  Jans  does  not  trust  him, 
nor  does  Tor  Straten,  the  painter,  nor  Clausen,  the  carpenter. 
And  there  are  other  people  of  sense.  Even  if  I  am  the  only 
one,  I  am  sure  he  is  a  bad  man.  I  don't  follow  the  crowd." 

"  All  you  Bojes  have  one  great  failing,"  said  he,  "  your 
hearts  are  cold." 

She  clasped  her  hands  and  cried  in  wretched  pain,  "  Pe! 
I  —  cold!  to  strangers,  perhaps;  but  to  you  and  my  child?  I 
—  cold !  "  She  caught  up  the  child  and  covered  it  with  burn- 
ing kisses,  tears  starting  to  her  eyes. 

He  went  into  his  writing-room.  After  a  while  she  followed 

252 


HOLYLAND  253 

him  and  said  in  a  restrained  voice,  "  Pe,  dear,  you  are  a  lion : 
you  must  not  go  with  the  fox  —  that's  an  old  proverb." 

He  was  no  longer  accessible  to  argument.  "  What  is  the 
risk?  We  can  separate  any  day  we  like." 

Her  scorn  blazed  up  anew.  "  I  cannot  have  you  in  Dusen- 
schon's  train,  and  that's  what  it  will  mean.  You're  there 
already." 

He  laughed  mockingly. 

"  I  want  my  great,  strong  husband  to  be  strong  and  inde- 
pendent, or  else  I  am  ashamed.  I  have  been  ashamed  for  a  long 
time  now,  and  I  will  not  be  ashamed."  She  stamped  with  her 
foot,  and  cried  with  tears,  "  I  will  not  be  ashamed.  I  cannot 
live  if  I  am." 

"  Go  and  be  ashamed,  then,"  he  said  drily. 

Her  face  grew  deadly  pale,  and  she  said,  turning  away, 
"Oh!  is  this  Hilligenlei !  "  Turning  on  the  threshold  she 
said  with  a  kind  of  fearful  self-restraint,  "  On  the  day  when 
you  become  Dusenschon's  partner  I  shall  take  my  child  to 
mother's,  and  work  at  the  machine.  I  love  you  beyond  all 
reason  and  sanity,  and  therefore  I  will  have  you  honour  me." 

She  was  gone.  Three  dark  weeks  came  and  went.  They 
exchanged  not  a  word.  She  spent  her  time  in  her  bedroom, 
sitting  for  hours  on  the  edge  of  her  bed  in  anguish  of  mind. 
He  spent  the  day  in  his  writing-room  or  the  shed,  the  night  in 
a  little  bed  in  the  attic,  unable  to  sleep  because  of  his  uneasy 
conscience,  which  kept  him  brooding  over  the  idea  that  her 
judgment  of  Dusenschon  was  the  true  one,  but  that  now  he 
could  not  draw  back  for  fear  of  laying  himself  open  to  her 
scorn.  At  times  the  fear  that  he  had  started  on  a  false  and 
dangerous  road  made  him  groan  aloud.  At  times  he  felt  a  pas- 
sionate longing  for  her.  "  Good  Heavens!  "  he  thought,  "  how 
glorious  she  looked  when  she  spoke  of  friendship,  how  pathetic 
when  she  wept."  In  torturing  indecision  he  thought,  "  What 
am  I  to  do?  I  can  neither  do  one  thing  nor  the  other."  And 
he  began  to  be  cynical  and  suspicious  of  everyone.  His 
peaceful  soul  seemed  to  have  fallen  into  a  pit  of  disease  and 
discontent. 

During  the  second  week  Tjark  Dusenschon  went  to  Berlin, 
taking  the  mayor  and  Suhlsen,  the  fat  alderman,  to  see  the 
cardboard  factory.  A  few  days  later  mayor  and  alderman 
returned  to  the  club,  their  faces  flushed  with  wine,  and  de- 


254  HOLYLAND 

scribed  the  imposing  buildings  and  flourishing  trade  they  had 
seen.  Tjark  Dusenschon  had  remained  in  Berlin  for  a  food 
exhibition,  and  to  entertain  a  company  of  soldiers  on  a  feast 
of  his  own  manufactures,  raw  ham  and  sausages. 

On  the  Friday,  Heine  Wulk  announced  in  the  newspaper, 
"  According  to  a  dispatch  we  have  just  received,  our  distin- 
guished fellow-citizen,  Mr.  Dusenschon,  has  received  a  recog- 
nition of  the  excellence  of  his  goods  in  the  form  of  a  laurel 
wreath.  Such  a  success  will  undoubtedly  encourage  Mr. 
Dusenschon  to  proceed  to  the  projected  extension  of  his  busi- 
ness here,  in  which  the  town  will  not  be  slow  to  meet  him. 
We  are  also  authorised  to  disclose  that  Mr.  Dusenschon  is 
returning  to  Hilligenlei  by  the  evening  train  on  Saturday." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Saturday  saw  Tjark  Dusenschon's  re- 
turn. The  mayor,  Alderman  Suhlsen,  and  some  members  of 
the  club  were  at  the  station.  Heine  Wulk  and  Jeff  Buhmann 
stood  in  the  background  regarding  Tjark  Dusenschon,  with 
the  laurel  wreath  on  his  arm,  with  beaming  faces.  Outside, 
as  he  went  down  the  steps,  he  was  received  by  a  band  of  men 
belonging  to  the  Artisans'  Musical  Society,  collected  by  Birn- 
baum,  the  publican,  who  greeted  him  with  "  Know'st  Thou 
the  Land."  They  had  decided  on  this  as  being  the  only  song, 
with  the  exception  of  "  See  the  Conquering  Hero,"  which  made 
any  mention  of  laurel  wreaths.  A  weak  "  Hurrah!  "  came  from 
some  hundred  people  standing  in  the  shadow  of  the  trees.  The 
folk  of  Hilligenlei  had  had  little  experience  of  public  demon- 
strations. Tjark  Dusenschon  passed  through  their  midst  with 
grave  and  careworn  face,  and  they  said  to  one  another,  "  You 
can  see  he  has  something  to  think  about  —  now  —  that  is  no 
trifle." 

Pe  Ontjes'  bitterness  extended  to  Tjark  Dusenschon.  The 
laurel  wreath  seemed  to  him  ridiculous  under  any  circum- 
stances, and  especially  for  a  sausage  manufacturer. 

It  was  in  this  temper  that  he  was  standing  before  his  door 
on  Sunday  morning,  when  old  Suhlsen  came  lumbering  along 
and  stopped  to  give  a  long-winded  account  of  Dusenschon's 
journey.  To  cut  the  long  story  short,  Pe  Ontjes  asked,  "  What 
does  Heine  Wulk  mean  by  saying  '  The  town  must  meet  Du- 
senschon '  ?  " 

The  old,  beer-sodden  busybody  came  nearer,  and  explained, 
"  Although  Mr.  Dusenschon  possessed  enough  capital  of  his 


HOLYLAND  255 

own  to  cover  the  cost  of  building  and  the  installation  of  ma- 
chinery, it  would  take  a  year  and  a  day  to  realise  that  capital 
for  present  use.  The  magistracy  was  therefore  going  to  pro- 
pose to  hand  over  ten  thousand  pounds  from  the  Town  Savings 
Bank,  and  retain  as  equivalent  shares  of  equal  value  in  the 
cardboard  factory.  We,  the  mayor  and  I,  have  examined  the 
factory,  and  are  acquainted  with  its  position.  It  is  a  huge, 
two-story  building  with  a  vast  chimney,  and  three  houses  at- 
tached in  which  the  hands  live.  Everything  is  in  the  best 
condition  and  full  working  order.  It  has  not  been  entered  on 
'Change,  but  its  soundness  is  guaranteed  by  the  excellent  con- 
dition of  the  factory  and  the  assurance  of  a  recognized  Berlin 
firm,  to  say  nothing  of  the  fact  that  the  personality  of  Mr. 
Dusenschon,  his  energy  and  ability  are  of  immeasurable  value." 

The  last  sentence,  a  creation  of  the  mayor's,  had  been  passed 
round  the  club  and  rammed  down  the  throat  of  every  stranger 
for  the  last  three  months;  but  its  brilliance  could  not  illumine 
the  darkness  of  Pe  Ontjes'  soul. 

"  It  is  against  the  statutes  of  the  Savings  Bank,"  he  said. 

"  Against  the  letter  of  the  law,"  said  Suhlsen.  "  But  sup- 
pose we  were  to  refuse,  Mr.  Lau?  what  then?  You  know 
that  the  government  is  backing  up  Mr.  Dusenschon,  and,  it  is 
said,  a  certain  neighbourhood  has  made  him  a  very  favourable 
offer." 

The  old  man  went  on  his  way,  and  Pe  Ontjes,  turning  back 
into  the  office,  sat  down  on  the  edge  of  his  desk  and  lost  him- 
self in  thought.  "  Yesterday  the  laurel  wreath,  to-day  ten 
thousand  pounds !  "  He  felt  the  curious  sensation  of  suddenly 
in  a  foreign  land  hearing  the  sound  of  an  old  familiar  voice ;  and 
as  he  listened  —  how  it  happened  he  did  not  know —  but  he  was 
going  to  school  with  Tjark  Dusenschon.  There  was  a  clatter- 
ing of  slippers,  the  sponge  that  hung  by  the  blackboard  bobbed 
up  and  down  as  they  passed,  the  school  door  opened,  and  there 
they  sat,  side  by  side,  in  rows,  with  Tjark  at  the  bottom  of 
the  first  bench,  and  he  heard  Max  Wieber  saying,  "  Tjark 
Dusenschon's  eyes  are  good,  and  so  are  his  words;  but  what 
he  does  is  always  a  surprise,  and  not  a  pleasant  one." 

Then  they  were  sitting  in  the  half-dark  smithy,  Buhmann 
roaring  out  his  words  of  wisdom,  Scheinhold,  by  the  bellows, 
waiting  for  an  opportunity  of  putting  in  a  word,  Kai  Jans, 
with  eyes  like  saucers,  and  his  hands  on  his  knees,  and  Tjark 


256  HOLYLAND 

—  his  eyes  and  words  were  all  laurel  wreaths,  laurel  wreaths. 
And  then,  yes !  'ien,  "  You  might  give  me  a  few  halfpence. 
Grandmother  aiu.  I  have  nothing  to  eat  to-night."  And  next 
would  come  a  sr'prise —  an  unpleasant  one  —  the  appearance 
of  Tjark  Dusen.:Jion  in  some  new  blue  tie,  or  old,  red,  sixth 
form  cap.  Yes ;  that's  how  it  had  been  —  all  the  time. 

Pe  Ontjes  was  still  sitting  there,  sunk  in  deep  reflection,  all 
his  thoughts  busy  with  the  days  of  his  childhood,  when  the 
door  opened,  and  Tjark  Dusenschon  stood  there.  Pe  looked 
up,  his  thoughts  still  in  his  boyhood,  his  eyes  still  those  he  had 
had  as  a  boy.  "  You  rascal !  what  have  you  done  with  the 


money 


Tjark  Dusenschon  saw  the  look,  and  understood  it.  His 
eyes  wandered.  "  What  do  you  mean?  " 

'  That  company  business  is  no  good,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  strik- 
ing the  table  with  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

Dusenschon  went  out  with  some  indifferent  remark. 

The  big  man  of  the  Gude  Wife  sat  down  heavily  on  his 
chair  and  relapsed  into  his  brooding.  Childish  days  were  van- 
ished. He  listened.  Now,  it  seemed,  another  sound  must 
come  —  the  clear  ring  of  a  soft,  woman's  voice.  But  it  did 
not  come.  The  door  of  the  living-room  opened,  and  she 
walked  along  the  passage  with  her  firm,  light  step,  humming 
to  herself. 

He  nodded.  "  So !  she  sees  that  Dusenschon  has  gone  off 
double  quick,  and  now  she  is  singing  the  song  of  victory,  im- 
agining that  she  is  much  cleverer  than  I  am,  much  more  capa- 
ble, and  Heaven  knows  what!  One  must  be  stronger  than 
Anna  Boje,  or  there  is  no  existing  with  her  at  all." 

She  rose  before  his  mind's  eye  in  all  the  glory  of  her  beauty, 
and  roused  such  a  transport  of  love  in  him  that  he  groaned 
aloud. 

Leaping  to  his  feet,  he  began  to  ponder  deeply  —  to  wonder 
whether  he  were  a  complete  man  —  one  who  could  stand  alone, 
quite  alone  —  a  man  who  saw,  decided,  acted  for  himself,  on 
his  own  judgment.  Brooding  profoundly,  he  gradually  sepa- 
rated himself  from  Hilligenlei  and  everything  in  it  —  the 
mayor,  the  club,  the  citizens  —  and,  standing  alone  on  the 
dyke,  saw  the  old  town  with  Tjark  Dusenschon  for  its  king, 
and  sleepy  or  idle  men  for  its  leaders,  and  for  the  first  time  he 
felt  love  and  fear  for  it.  "Hilligenlei!"  he  said  slowly  and 


HOLYLAND  257 

softly.  "  If  Tjark  Dusenschon  is  a  swine4  L^,  and  brings  Hilli- 
genlei  into  disrepute  before  the  country,  I  will  know  how  it 
stands  with  Dusenschon!  I  will  know  t^-day,  and  then  — 
then,  when  I  know  —  she  shall  do  penance  on  her  dear  knees, 
with  laughter  and  kisses." 

While  he  was  still  ordering  his  thoughts  in  the  light  of  the 
new  certainty  which  had  come  to  him,  old  Thomas  Jans  came 
along  in  his  grey,  mud-bespattered  working  clothes,  his  spade 
over  his  shoulder,  and  his  tin  canteen  in  his  hand,  and  looked 
in  at  the  window  with  his  deep-set  eyes. 

Pe  Ontjes  threw  up  the  window,  and  the  old  man  told  him 
he  had  received  a  letter  from  Kai,  with  which  he  was  not  at 
all  satisfied.  "  I  have  thought  a  great  deal  about  it,  and  — 
I  think  I  can  scrape  the  money  together.  I  am  going  to  risk 
the  journey  to  Berlin.  He  has  often  asked  me.  Tell  me,  do 
you  know  how  to  get  there  and  what  it  costs?  " 

"  I  will  tell  you  that  in  two  words,"  said  Pe.  "  It's  six 
o'clock  now.  You  must  be  at  the  station  at  eight  sharp  in 
your  Sunday  clothes  with  your  blue  cap  and  your  pipe.  I  will 
go  with  you.  If  anyone  asks  you,  say  I  am  only  going  as  far 
as  Hamburg  with  you." 

"Are  you  in  your  senses?"  said  the  old  man  in  an  injured 
tone.  "  Do  you  suppose  I  can  make  up  my  mind  to  such  a 
step  in  two  hours,  and  get  ready,  too?  It's  impossible  before 
to-morrow  midday." 

"  You  must  be  at  the  station  by  eight  sharp.  Now  be 
off." 

The  old  man  stamped  off,  shaking  his  head  as  he  went.  A 
little  further  on  he  fell  into  a  slow  trot.  Pe  Ontjes  went 
into  the  shed  and  arranged  some  matters  in  the  office.  Then, 
it  being  time  to  start,  he  went  upstairs,  put  on  his  seaman's 
clothes,  and  went  down  into  the  sitting-room. 

Anna  and  Heinke  were  sitting  there  with  the  child  at  their 
feet.  Anna  looked  up  at  him  curiously  with  eager,  expectant 
eyes.  He  pretended  not  to  see.  "  I  am  going  to  Berlin  this 
evening,"  he  said. 

"  Oh!  "  cried  Heinke,  "  to  Berlin?  Do  go  and  see  Kai.  I 
have  had  such  a  depressed  letter  from  him.  The  misery  he 
sees  there  seems  to  be  breaking  his  heart." 

"  What  are  you  going  to  Berlin  for?  "  said  Anna.  "  Has  it 
to  do  with  Tjark  Dusenschon  ?  " 


258  HOLYLAND 

"  Say  that  I  have  only  gone  to  Hamburg.  Look  after  the 
house."  He  went  out. 

Anna  jumped  up  and  ran  after  him  just  as  he  was  about  to 
shut  the  front  door  behind  him.  With  shining  eyes  she  stepped 
up  to  him.  "  Haven't  you  a  single  word  for  me?  " 

"  No!  "     He  looked  at  her  with  cold  scorn.     "  Not  one!  " 

She  turned  and  went  silently  back  into  the  room. 

Next  day,  at  midday,  they  slipped  out  of  the  train  in  Ber- 
lin. 

The  passage  of  time  had  somewhat  shrivelled  up  Thomas 
Jans.  He  pushed  his  blue  Sunday  cap  well  over  his  head,  his 
keen  eyes  looking  out  under  the  brim.  He  thanked  the  guard 
for  their  good  journey,  and  then,  puffing  hard  at  his  pipe, 
trotted  behind  Pe  Ontjes.  After  resting  for  a  space  at  their 
hotel,  they  walked  down  Frederick  Street  together.  Then  Pe 
Ontjes  wanted  to  send  the  old  man  to  Well  Street  to  see  Kai, 
but  he,  after  a  thoughtful  glance  at  all  the  people  and  convey- 
ances, and  the  tall  houses  around  him,  said,  "  I  won't  risk  it; 
I  will  stay  with  you." 

So  they  went  down  Frederick  Street  together  —  Pe  Ontjes' 
tall  figure  in  front,  the  little  old  man  behind  him,  stopping 
every  now  and  then,  and  then  running  on  again.  "  Life  is 
rather  more  rapid  here  than  on  the  lightship  in  the  Hilligenlei 
bay,  but  my  wife's  idea  of  Berlin  was  certainly  quite  wrong. 
She  thought  it  was  all  silks  and  satins,  but  I  see  shabbier  boots 
and  stockings  than  you  would  find  anywhere  in  Hilligenlei." 

At  Potsdam  Station  they  took  a  train  which  carried  them 
out  of  the  surge  of  humanity,  away  from  the  high  walls, 
through  a  barren  tract  of  open  country,  depositing  them,  after 
an  hour's  journey,  near  a  little  village.  They  went  up  to  the 
station-master  and  asked  him  about  the  cardboard  factory. 

"Cardboard  factory?"  said  he,  "I  don't  know.  I  haven't 
been  here  very  long."  He  called  to  a  porter.  "  Oh,  yes," 
said  he,  "yes;  there,  behind  that  wood."  He  said  more,  but, 
being  from  the  eastern  provinces,  they  could  not  understand 
it. 

They  marched  ahead  through  the  greyish  sand.  Pe  Ontjes 
straining  his  eyes  for  the  chimney  and  a  big,  two-storied  build- 
ing with  rows  of  windows.  He  walked  steadily  on,  the  old 
man  puffing  at  his  pipe  comfortably  as  he  followed  him,  his 


HOLYLAND  259 

eyes  taking  in  everything  around  him.  They  reached  the  top 
of  the  hill,  but  saw  nothing  save  a  withered  wood  of  pines 
and  fir-trees. 

"  I  must  sit  down  for  a  bit,"  said  the  old  man,  seating  him- 
self on  a  kind  of  wall  that  ran  along  the  side  of  the  road  to 
re-light  his  pipe.  Pe  Ontjes  climbed  up  on  to  the  wall,  and 
stretched  out  his  neck  and  sniffed  the  air  like  a  greyhound. 

"  Can  you  see  anything?  "  said  the  old  man  pleasantly. 

"  Don't  knock  over  the  wall,"  said  Pe  angrily.  The  old 
man  sat  smoking  like  a  small  furnace.  After  a  time  he  asked 
again,  "  Can  you  see  anything?  " 

Pe  Ontjes,  who  was  still  standing  on  the  wall,  suddenly 
gave  such  a  mighty  lurch  that  it  collapsed,  and  he  came  down 
with  it.  Looking  down  at  his  feet  in  amazement,  he  saw  that 
the  so-called  wall  was  a  mere  mass  of  lime  and  broken  pieces 
of  stone  put  together  anyhow.  "  Hullo!  "  he  said. 

"  Look  there !  "  said  the  old  man,  tracing  out  the  course 
of  the  wall  with  his  pipe.  "  Look!  it's  a  sort  of  square,  be- 
hind the  pines,  do  you  see  ?  I  see  it  all  now  —  " 

"  Huh !  "  said  Pe  Ontjes  scornfully. 

The  old  man  smoked  in  silence  for  a  time,  and  then  went 
on,  "I  tell  you  what  —  you  know,  if  a  workman  who  has 
lived  in  Hilligenlei  for  forty  years  wants  to  borrow  five  pounds 
for  the  education  of  his  child  or  any  other  useful  purpose,  he 
could  go  from  one  end  of  the  place  to  the  other  without  get- 
ting a  penny.  But  let  the  first  rascally  windbag  come  along 
and  say  he  has  half  a  million  buried  in  the  sand  in  Berlin,  and 
you  are  ready  to  give  him  Hilligenlei  itself,  and  its  honour 
into  the  bargain." 

Pe  Ontjes  stood  whistling,  rehearsing  in  his  mind  a  series 
of  conversations  with  Tjark  Dusenschon,  the  mayor,  Anna 
Boje,  and  Pe  Ontjes  Lau. 

"  How  long  are  we  going  to  sit  here?  " 

At  this  moment  Pe  saw  a  man  coming  through  the  wood. 
"  Was  there  ever  a  cardboard  factory  here,  my  man  ? "  he 
said,  raising  his  voice. 

"  No !  "  said  the  man ;  "  but  there  is,  perhaps,  going  to  be 
one." 

"Tell  me!"  Pe  went  on.  "Do  you  know  Tjark  Dusen- 
schon? He's  got  a  figure  like  a  guard  and  a  head  like  a 
smooth,  round  turnip  —  which  he  resembles  in  other  respects." 


26o  HOLYLAND 

"  No!  "  said  the  man,  in  some  surprise.  "  I  have  never  seen 
such  a  man  in  my  life." 

They  returned  to  the  station,  and  there  sat  for  three  hours 
in  sun  and  wind  on  a  real  wall.  The  old  man  smoked,  and 
quoted  all  sorts  of  curious  parallels  —  the  giant  Goliath  who 
was  somewhat  slow  of  understanding;  Eli;  and  Absolom,  who 
hung  by  his  hair.  Pe  Ontjes  listened,  and  sometimes  even 
laughed,  thinking  of  the  glorious  peace  he  would  make  with 
Anna  Boje. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  before  they  again  found  them- 
selves in  the  midst  of  the  city,  and  Pe  Ontjes  stopped  before 
a  huge  building. 

"Will  you  wait  here  a  few  minutes?"  he  said  to  the  old 
man.  "  This  is  the  Board  of  Works.  I  just  want  to  enquire 
as  to  what  steps  are  being  taken  about  the  harbour  channel, 
and  things  in  general  in  Hilligenlei." 

He  was  led  into  a  room,  where,  to  his  considerable  surprise, 
he  found  a  friendly,  grey-haired  man  from  his  own  district, 
who  dismissed  him  finally  with  a  thoughtful  nod  after  putting 
all  sorts  of  questions. 

The  old  man  was  still  exactly  where  he  had  left  him,  his 
cold  pipe  held  tightly  in  his  hand  as  if  it  were,  among  so  much 
that  was  strange  and  new,  the  only  thing  he  knew,  gazing 
earnestly  at  the  stream  that  flowed  past  him  as  he  stood  close 
to  the  wall. 

Their  spirits  sank  as  they  left  Frederick  Street  and  turned 
off  into  the  dreary,  straight  streets  of  the  north-eastern 
quarter. 

"  Just  look!  "  said  the  old  man.  "  In  Hilligenlei,  when  one 
stands  on  the  dyke  one  can  see  land  and  sand  over  the  sea  as 
far  as  England,  and  the  vastness  of  the  sky  above  is  almost 
frightening.  But  here,  if  one  turns  round  what  does  one  see? 
A  man  who  lives  in  one  of  these  great  quarries  must  have  a 
dead  weight  on  his  heart  or  an  iron  yoke  on  his  neck." 
'  On  turning  into  the  street  in  which  Kai  Jans  lodged  they 
found  crowds  of  men  standing  in  groups  of  various  sizes  and 
talking  eagerly  to  one  another  at  the  doors  of  the  houses. 
Undersized  young  men  were  streaming,  conversing  the  while, 
into  the  public-houses  at  the  bottom  of  the  street.  Here  and 
there  women  leant  out  of  the  windows,  and  pale-faced  chil- 
dren standing  on  the  door-steps  followed  the  conversation  of 


HOLYLAND  261 

their  elders  with  an  unchildish  understanding  in  their  serious 
eyes.  In  the  distance  the  gleaming  helmets  of  the  police  were 
visible. 

The  old  man  stopped  a  young  workman  who  was  walking 
along  with  his  eyes  upon  the  ground  to  ask  him  why  all  these 
people  were  not  at  work,  but  the  man,  not  comprehending  the 
dialect,  looked  up  at  Pe  Ontjes,  who  repeated  the  question. 
He  then  related  in  his  peculiar  German  that  he  and  the  others 
were  boiler-makers,  and  now  on  strike. 

"  Why  are  you  striking?  " 

"  To  put  it  shortly,  because  the  master  won't  allow  us  to 
have  our  own  beliefs.  He  won't  have  us  admit  that  we  belong 
to  the  labour  party." 

The  old  man's  eyes  twinkled.  "  He  imagines,  then,  that  his 
word  will  keep  off  the  great  time  which  will  and  must  come !  " 
Lifting  his  forefinger,  he  said  quaintly,  "  The  living  garment 
of  God  changes!  " 

The  workman   smiled.      "That's   Goethe!" 

"  Come!  "  said  Pe  Ontjes,  "  let  us  get  on." 

They  found  the  number,  and  climbed  up  three  flights  of 
dark,  narrow,  dirty  steps. 

"  Have  we  got  to  climb  further?  "  said  the  old  man.  "  Do 
you  hear  that  noise  upstairs  —  all  those  voices?" 

"There's  something  wrong!  "  said  Pe  Ontjes,  still  climbing 
slowly  up.  On  the  landing  the  doors  stood  open  right  and 
left.  From  the  rooms  to  the  left  came  the  sound  of  weeping 
and  female  voices.  In  front  of  the  opposite  door  there  stood 
a  middle-aged  workman,  holding  back  his  wife  with  one  arm, 
saying,  "  Why  do  you  want  to  see  such  a  miserable  sight  ? 
You  won't  be  able  to  sleep  for  three  nights  after  it." 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  said  Pe  Ontjes. 

"  An  old  woman  lives  here  whose  son  was  a  bad  lot  and 
died  in  penal  servitude.  She  brought  up  his  two  children,  her 
grandsons,  who  are  now  about  fifteen  and  seventeen.  Well, 
the  old  grandmother,  a  very  good,  honest  sort  of  woman, 
saw  that  the  two  lads  were  going  to  follow  in  their  father's 
footsteps.  They  were  apprenticed  to  our  smithy.  Well,  the 
last  few  days  they  have  been  out  of  work.  They  got  drunk, 
and  played  wicked  pranks  with  a  little  girl,  and  then  went 
and  boasted  of  it  to  their  grandmother.  That  was  more  than 
the  old  soul  could  endure.  She  is  a  good,  honest  woman  from 


262  HOLYLAND 

the  country,  where  such  things  don't  happen.  She  only  left 
the  country  eight  or  ten  years  ago.  Anyhow,  this  afternoon, 
when  the  two  lads  waked  up  from  their  debauch  and  asked 
for  coffee,  she  gave  them  a  good  dose  of  rat-poison  in  it. 
They're  both  lying  dead  now.  The  police  will  be  here  di- 
rectly." 

He  went  in  at  the  opposite  door,  and,  saying  to  the  women 
who  were  crowded  in  the  dark  little  passage,  "  Make  way!  " 
led  them  into  the  room. 

There,  near  the  table,  on  the  floor  of  the  wretched  room, 
in  the  half-darkness,  lay  the  two  boys,  their  bodies,  clad  in 
miserable  rags,  convulsed  in  the  last  agony  of  death,  their 
faces  livid,  their  lips  still  flecked  with  foam.  By  the  window 
sat  the  old  grandmother,  her  thin  frame  bent  by  toil  in  the 
fields.  She  was  cleanly  dressed,  and  as  she  smoothed  down 
her  apron  with  her  emaciated  hands  she  said  in  a  strangely 
calm  and  monotonous  voice,  like  that  of  a  clerk  reading  for 
the  tenth  time  an  uninteresting  protocol,  "  Their  father  lived 
to  be  forty,  and  fifteen  of  those  years  he  spent  behind  iron  bars. 
His  evil  deeds  brought  misery  upon  seventy  people,  his  evil 
words  upon  seven  thousand.  They  would  have  done  the  same. 
Where  is  the  police?  I  am  a  God-fearing  old  woman,  and  I 
know  what  I  am  doing." 

Lifting  up  her  head,  she  saw  the  ten  or  twelve  people  who 
were  pressing  in  at  the  door,  and  said,  as  if  to  herself,  "  I  am 
not  afraid  of  anyone  —  except  Kai  Jans." 

Pe  Ontjes  Lau  turned  round  and  asked  the  man  behind  him, 
"  What  has  Jans  to  do  with  it?  " 

The  man  took  them  both  to  his  door,  and  said,  "  Some  time 
ago  a  certain  Kai  Jans  lived  for  two  years  with  us,  and  for 
the  last  year  he  has  lived  with  us  again.  In  between  he  was 
a  parson  in  his  home,  but  found  no  peace  there.  He  is  the 
sort  of  man,  don't  you  know,  for  whom  every  day  is  Christ- 
mas Eve;  but  people  and  things  always  spoil  it  for  him.  He 
thought  there  ought  to  be  much  more  happiness  in  the  world, 
if  only  things  could  be  put  right.  He  came  here  to  try  and 
find  the  meaning  of  things.  But  he  hasn't  been  able  to  find 
it.  The  first  time  he  was  here,  as  a  student,  he  used  to  sit 
with  us  in  the  evenings,  help  the  children  with  their  lessons, 
and  argue  with  me  about  religion  and  politics.  He  was  al- 
ways gay  and  friendly.  Of  course,  he  was  only  a  boy  then, 


HOLYLAND  263 

and  his  eyes  seemed  to  see  everything  for  the  first  time.  Since 
he  came  back  again  he  hardly  talks  at  all  himself,  but  sits 
there  asking  questions  and  brooding.  He  asks  the  children 
about  their  thoughts  and  plans  —  us  grown-ups  about  our  faith 
and  politics  —  the  old  people,  most  of  whom  came  from  the 
country,  how  the  landlords  treated  them,  what  their  faith  was 
then,  what  they  thought  of  the  Church,  and  how  they  feel 
now,  and  so  on. 

"  I  have  never  known  a  man  who  could  make  other  people 
talk  so,  and  say  so  little  himself.  Generally,  he  is  melancholy 
and  broods.  Sometimes,  when  he  is  talking  with  the  children, 
he  becomes  merry  for  a  moment,  only  to  become  suddenly 
serious  again. 

"  One  evening,  not  very  long  ago,  he  had  got  five  or  six  chil- 
dren in  his  room.  The  door  was  open.  He  told  them  how 
a  village  boy  wakes  up  before  sunrise  and  helps  his  father  to 
take  out  the  cart,  and  as  they  cross  the  heath  they  see  the  sun 
rising  behind  the  wood ;  and  they  pass  through  villages,  and 
then  through  a  little  town,  and  see  one  thing  and  another,  re- 
turning by  a  different  way.  The  Hoy  then  goes  to  a  school 
where  boys  and  girls,  big  and  small,  sit  together,  and  in  the 
afternoon  he  goes  down  to  the  shore  with  his  companions. 
They  see  distant  sails  far  out  to  sea,  and  hunt  for  clams  and 
molluscs.  In  the  evening  they  sit  in  front  of  the  house-doors, 
and  before  they  go  to  bed  a  great  thunderstorm  rolls  by,  rum- 
bling like  a  huge  waggon.  We  could  hear  him  telling  the 
children  all  this  from  the  kitchen,  and  at  the  end  he  asked, 
'Well,  what  do  you  think?  Wasn't  that  a  lovely  day?' 
The  children  laughed  and  said,  '  Do  you  suppose  we  be- 
lieve what  you've  told  us?  It's  a  fairy  tale,  of  course! '  He 
left  his  room  and  came  to  us  in  the  kitchen  in  despair,  saying, 
'  Do  you  see,  your  children  call  the  ordinary  life  of  a  village 
child  a  fairy  tale  —  poor  little  wretches!'  His  voice  went 
right  through  us.  I  can  see  him  saying  it  now.  .  .  .  Did  you 
say  you  knew  him  ?  Oh !  "  the  man  cried  out  all  of  a  sudden. 
"I  can  see  —  mother!  come  here;  this  is  Kai  Jans'  father! 
.  .  .  Come  into  his  room,  please." 

On  the  way  he  said,  "  He  has  known  the  two  boys  upstairs, 
they  who  are  dead,  for  six  years,  and  he  said  often  to  the  old 
woman,  '  Don't  lose  heart,  grandmamma!  The  boys  will  turn 
out  all  right!'  She  did  lose  heart,  and,  I  think  —  she  was 


264  HOLYLAND 

right.  But  it  will  break  his  heart  when  he  comes.  Here! 
this  is  his  room." 

He  led  them  past  his  weeping  wife  and  his  children,  who 
stood  shyly  by  the  kitchen  door,  into  the  room.  It  was  a  clean 
little  place,  looking  out  on  to  the  gloomy  court  below.  They 
looked  round,  and  then,  being  fatigued,  were  about  to  sit  down 
when  they  heard  several  people  running  upstairs,  and  the 
sound  of  dreadful  words  rang  out.  Pe  Ontjes  ran  to  the 
door. 

"  Kai  Jans!  "  he  cried,  "  come  here!  "    There  was  no  reply. 

Going  upstairs  they  found  him  at  the  door  crying, 
"Grandmamma!  what  have  you  done?  Oh!  dear  old  grand- 
mamma! now  you  are  a  murderess!  " 

The  old  woman  sat  still  by  the  window,  stroking  her  apron 
with  the  same  composed  mien.  She  said  with  perfect  calm, 

"  It  is  done  now,  Kai  Jans.  This  is  a  much  surer  way  than 
your  endless  '  Wait,  grandmamma,  it  will  come  right !  '  They 
would  have  been  perpetually  in  and  out  of  trouble,  and  I 
should  not  have  been  able  to  save  them.  This  was  the  end." 

He  knelt  beside  the  children  and  stroked  their  hair.  "  Men 
are  to  blame  —  they  who  gave  no  land  to  your  father  and 
your  grandfather  —  else  you  might  have  been  honest  farmers. 
They  do  not  even  grant  you  a  place  to  stand  in ;  they  lift  you, 
four  stories  up  from  Mother  Earth,  and  there  they  leave  you. 
And  the  man  who  does  not  live  on  the  soil,  the  man  who  has 
no  land,  is  utterly  lost."  He  sobbed  aloud.  "  We  have  noth- 
ing, nothing  —  no  unity,  no  trust,  no  home,  no  faith,  no  love, 
no  hope.  We  are  shaken  this  way  and  that  like  corn  in  a 
sieve.  What  is  wrong  with  the  world?  I  cannot  find  my 
way  in  it." 

A  strong  hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder.  "  Come  with  us!  " 
said  Pe  Ontjes  in  a  loud  voice. 

Kai  Jans  stumbled  to  his  feet  as  if  called  by  an  angel  of  the 
Lord  and  reached  out  his  right  hand,  still  bent  from  the  night 
by  Cape  Horn.  "  Pe  Ontjes!"  he  cried;  "dear  Pe  Ontjes! 
Oh,  father,  is  that  you?  You  see  —  you  see  how  it  is  with 
me." 

They  drew  him  out  into  the  passage.  There  a  little  dark 
man  came  up  to  him,  his  head  drooping  a  little  to  one  side, 
and  stepped  aside  with  him.  "  Excuse  me,"  he  said  in  a  friendly 
manner.  "  I  am  a  relation  of  your  friend  —  " 


HOLYLAND  265 

"Ah,  yes;  I  know  you,"  said  Kai,  pulling  himself  together. 
"  We  met  once  at  my  friend's  house.  I  remember.  We  talked 
about  religion.  You  are  a  Catholic." 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  other.  "  I  am  to  inform  you  that  he 
expects  you  to  spend  several  years  with  him.  He  is  starting 
for  South  Africa  in  the  autumn."  He  briefly  informed  him 
of  the  object  and  duration  of  the  journey.  Then,  with  a  cer- 
tain embarrassment,  he  went  on :  "I  cannot  help  seeing  that 
you  are  deeply  depressed.  May  I  say  something?  I  assume 
that  our  mutual  friend  has  informed  you  that  I  come  of  an 
orthodox  family.  My  mother  comes  from  a  noble  family  of 
orthodox  Protestants;  my  father  was  an  orthodox  Catholic, 
and  I  have  followed  him." 

"Yes,"  said  Kai,  "what  do  you  want  to  say  to  me?" 

"  Your  friend,  my  cousin,  has  often  talked  to  me  of  you  and 
your  brooding,  and  yesterday  he  showed  me  your  last  letter. 
So  when  he  commissioned  me  to  find  you  here  I  conceived 
a  burning  desire  to  say  to  you,  '  Cease  your  brooding;  let  it 
be ;  it  will  never  bring  you  to  the  goal.'  " 

Kai  Jans  listened  unwillingly. 

"  I  implore  you,"  said  the  stranger,  catching  hold  of  Kai's 
arm  with  a  movement  of  kindly  anxiety.  "  When  I  was  a 
young  man  —  I  am  now  fifty  —  I  suffered  from  doubts  and 
brooding,  but  I  gave  it  up.  It  was  no  use.  I  pushed  it  from 
me  with  both  hands.  I  said  to  myself,  '  I  won't  brood,  I 
won't  inquire,  I  will  believe  the  belief  and  teaching  of  Mother 
Church.'  And,"  his  voice  softened  and  trembled,  "  since  I 
formed  that  resolution  I  have  had  the  power  at  any  time  to 
step  out  of  the  cruelty,  the  coldness,  the  sinfulness  of  life  into 
the  quiet  peace  of  the  holy  sanctuary  of  the  grace  of  God  and 
the  Saints." 

"And  now?"  said  Kai  Jans. 

"  I  implore  you  to  believe  that  I  have  no  desire  to  make 
you  a  Catholic.  My  mother  was  a  Protestant,  and  happy  in 
her  faith.  All  I  beg  of  you  is  to  nestle  in  the  faith  of  your 
Church  as  a  chicken  under  the  hen.  Believe  in  redemption  by 
His  blood.  And  yet  the  bosom  of  my  Church  is  the  most  sure 
haven  of  peace  and  rest." 

Kai  Jans  shook  his  head  and  said  in  a  strangled  voice,  "  You 
are  right.  There  is  no  difference  between  the  Catholic  and  the 
Protestant  dogmas.  Each  is  the  desert  of  worn-out  doctrine. 


266  HOLYLAND 

To  accept  may  bring  happiness,  but  it  is  the  happiness  of  a 
king  who  has  given  away  his  crown  and  feels  happy  in  his 
night-cap,  or  of  a  soldier  who  has  cast  away  his  cockade  and 
feels  at  home  in  a  marauding  band.  Speaking  for  myself,  I  do 
not  want  such  happiness.  I  will  look  into  the  eyes  of  the 
Eternal  Powers  and  all  their  terrors,  even  if  I  go  mad  in  doing 
it.  There  is  no  good  in  our  talking  to  one  another." 

He  departed  sadly.  The  workman,  whom  they  had  met  in 
the  street  and  who  had  directed  them,  now  entered  the  room, 
and,  taking  hold  of  Kai  Jans,  said,  "  You  have  seen  all  our 
misery.  Now  go  and  revenge  the  dead,  and  the  children  sit- 
ting in  the  dark  courtyards  instead  of  playing!  Who  was  that 
pious  sneak?  Kai  Jans,  come  and  join  us!  " 

Kai  Jans  shook  his  head  despairingly.  "  How  gladly  I 
would  if  I  could!  But  I  can't!  You  are  just  as  narrow  and 
unjust  as  all  the  other  parties.  No  man  can  serve  a  party  and 
keep  his  soul  free." 

The  young  workman  looked  at  him  angrily.  "  You  can  do 
nothing  without  a  party,  you  know  that." 

"  That  is  not  true,"  said  Kai  Jans  hotly.  "  Those  who  have 
effected  the  most  have  belonged  to  no  party.  Their  sense  of 
justice  prevented  it." 

"  If  you  join  us  you  would  have  ground  to  stand  on  and 
a  field  to  work  in,  and  your  father  would  rejoice." 

"No,  no!  not  thus  will  I  win  my  ground,  my  field;  that 
were  no  Holyland.  I  cannot  accept  any  orthodoxy,  either 
political  or  religious.  I  cannot.  Don't  be  angry  with  me." 

"Come!"  said  Pe  Ontjes  stiffly.  "Make  an  end  of  this 
and  come  with  us." 

"  Go,  then,"  said  the  workman  good-humouredly,  giving  him 
his  hand.  "One  cannot  do  what 'the  heart  does  not  desire. 
But  do  not  forget  us."  He,  too,  departed. 

Kai  Jans  put  together  the  things  he  wanted  to  take  with 
him,  and,  after  paying  his  landlord,  followed  the  other  two, 
leaving  his  host  standing  sorrowfully  at  the  door. 

Work  hours  were  over  when  they  left  the  north-east,  and 
the  streets  were  crowded  writh  thousands  of  workmen,  women, 
children,  and  vehicles  —  an  army  that  now  seemed  to  be  try- 
ing to  get  back  into  its  ordered  ranks,  and  now  wandered  this 
way  and  that  without  aim  or  purpose.  The  throng  was  held 
in  and  cramped  by  the  high,  steep  walls  that  rose  up  on  either 


HOLYLAND  267 

side.  Far  in  the  distant  west  the  glow  of  evening  burned  in 
the  wide  sky  above.  Kai  Jans  said  sadly  when  he  saw  his 
father  stop  to  gaze  at  the  stream  of  human  life  before  him, 
"  There  are  not  a  hundred  men  in  all  these  thousands  who 
know  the  real  meaning  of  life.  Look  at  the  red  in  the  sky! 
How  far  we  are  from  God  and  Nature!  how  far,  therefore, 
from  happiness !  " 

They  retraced  their  steps  down  to  the  station,  where  they 
had  some  refreshment  and  sat  in  deep  depression  of  spirit. 
When  they  came  out  again  it  was  night. 

Half  an  hour  later  they  were  speeding  through  the  night  on 
their  way  to  Hamburg.  The  old  man  sat  in  the  corner  with 
his  pipe,  as  if  crushed  by  some  mighty  power.  Gradually  the 
hand  which  held  the  pipe  dropped  on  his  knee,  and  his  drowsy 
head  sank  on  his  breast.  Pe  Ontjes  lay  stretched  full  length 
on  the  seat,  righting  in  his  sleep  against  Tjark  Dusenschon 
and  the  Hilligenlei  authorities,  without  minding,  in  the  stress 
of  his  rage,  that  Anna  looked  at  him  with  laughing  eyes  and 
shook  his  body  from  side  to  side. 

Kai  Jans  sat  staring  in  front  of  him,  his  mind  painfully  re- 
tracing the  events  of  the  last  few  weeks  and  the  shocks  they 
had  brought,  re-living  the  vain  broodings,  the  fruitless  search 
that  had  occupied  his  soul  since  childhood,  declaring  at  last, 

"  All  is  over.  It  is  all  without  meaning  or  purpose.  What 
is  there  to  do?  Go  out  of  the  world,  or  drag  on  this  dreary 
tedium  of  existence?  Neither  the  one  nor  the  other  was  pos- 
sible. What  then?  There  is  a  third  alternative.  One  can 
go  mad,  mad,  mad — yes,  go  mad!  that  was  it!  Get  out  of 
the  train  at  Hamburg  and  tell  all  the  people  in  the  station 
and  in  the  streets,  '  Children  of  men,  why  do  you  run  about 
in  this  restless  way?  Why  are  your  faces  so  careworn?  Why 
are  your  children  so  pale  and  downcast?  Why  don't  they  go 
and  play  in  the  woods?  Why  do  the  young  toil  and  moil  in- 
stead of  wearing  flowers  in  their  hair?  Why  do  you  live,  so 
many  of  you,  in  hideous  darkness?  Why  do  you  have  huge 
prisons,  huge  asylums?  What  is  the  matter?  Are  you  mad? 
Don't  you  know  that  round  Hamburg  there  is  a  whole  world 
of  holiness  and  joy?  Look  about  you!  Open  your  eyes! 
Don't  you  see  —  all  around  you  is  Holyland  ?  ' ' 

For  an  hour  his  mind  travelled  painfully  on  the  brink  of  the 


268  HOLYLAND 

awful  abyss,  drunk  and  disordered  by  the  bitter  draughts  of 
misery,  till  merciful  nature  gave  him  the  relief  of  deep  sleep. 

In  his  sleep  he  saw  a  vision  of  peace.  A  great  bird,  white- 
winged,  as  large  as  a  heron,  came  flying  towards  him  with  a 
gentle  motion  of  his  vast  wings,  and  said,  "  Seat  yourself  upon 
me,  and  I  will  show  you  something  that  will  make  you  re- 
joice." As  soon  as  he  had  taken  his  seat  he  felt  a  sense  of 
freedom  and  joyous  expectancy.  They  flew  over  land  and  sea 
so  swiftly  that  they  seemed  merely  to  traverse  meadows  and 
ponds,  till  they  came  to  a  high  range  of  wooded  mountains, 
and  there,  upon  the  summit,  they  halted.  Then  his  companion 
said  to  him,  "  Do  you  see?  "  As  he  raised  his  eyes  he  beheld 
a  wide  and  wooded  land  swelling  gently  here  and  there,  across 
which  the  fresh  breeze  blew  like  the  breath  of  God.  At  the 
fringe  of  the  woods  were  big,  sunny  houses,  standing  in  gar- 
dens, in  which  people  were  at  work,  tall  and  strong,  with 
purity  shining  in  their  eyes  and  peaceful  thought  enshrined 
upon  their  brows.  And  as  he  looked  down  with  a  sense  of  ex- 
quisite contentment,  he  heard  a  voice  at  his  ear,  and,  turning 
round,  saw  the  eccentric  old  sailor  with  whom  he  had  once, 
sixteen  years  ago,  spent  three  days  on  shore  near  Vancouver; 
and,  behold!  this  was  the  land  he  had  seen  then!  "Look!" 
said  the  old  sailor,  "  it  is  given  to  you  once  to  behold  the 
Holyland  because  you  have  brooded  over  it  so  passionately." 
With  these  words  the  vision  vanished. 

He  never  saw  it  again,  waking  or  dreaming,  but  for  the  few 
years  he  was  still  to  live  it  was  a  secret  source  of  strength. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

IT  was  evening — the  moon  had  just  risen  —  when  they 
arrived  at  Hilligenlei  Station.  Clausen,  the  contractor,  Tor- 
straten,  the  painter,  and  a  couple  of  healthy-minded  young 
tradesmen  who  had  held  aloof  from  the  society  of  the  club, 
came  up  to  Pe  Ontjes  and  asked  where  he  had  been.  Like 
Pe,  they  had  hitherto  troubled  their  heads  very  little  about 
the  town  and  its  management,  absorbed  in  their  business  and 
their  families ;  but  since  yesterday  their  suspicions  had  been 
aroused.  Pe  Ontjes  related  what  he  had  seen. 

"That's  it!  "  they  said.  "  He  suspected  that  you  were  on 
his  tracks,  and  got  hold  of  the  ten  thousand  yesterday!" 

"Where  is  he?"  said   Pe  Ontjes. 

"  He's  in  the  club,  if  he  hasn't  made  off  already." 

"  I  am  going  to  the  club,"  said  Pe  Ontjes  quickly.  "  You 
look  for  him  elsewhere."  He  looked  up  and  down  the  street. 
"  We  must  get  more  people  to  look  for  him.  Where  can  we 
find  them?" 

Some  people,  women  and  children  among  them,  ran  up  the 
street  towards  the  harbour.  "  What  is  up?  "  said  Kai  Jans. 

"  Yes;  what  can  it  be?  "  said  the  others.  "  Before,  we  saw 
some  people  running  as  if  mad  down  to  the  harbour." 

Nagel,  the  smith,  ran  past,  and  they  called  out  to  him, 
"Hallo!  master!  whither  away?" 

He  turned  round  as  he  ran,  and,  crying  "  Don't  you  know?  " 
said  something  about  Dusenschon  which  they  did  not  catch 
and  ran  on.  At  his  heels  came  a  big  boy,  shoes  in  hand,  who 
tried  to  slip  past  them  in  his  stocking  feet;  but  Pe  Ontjes 
caught  him  by  the  scruff  of  his  neck  and  said,  "  What  is  up, 
boy?" 

Wrenching  himself  free,  he  cried  out,  "  Dusenschon  has  had 
the  treasure-ship  dug  up  from  the  sandbank  —  they  have  found 
a  million  already!  " 

"Good  heavens!  "  cried  Pe  Ontjes.     "  Do  you  hear  that?" 

269 


270  HOLYLAND 

Roaring  and  shouting  came  from  the  door  of  the  public- 
house.  The  names  "  mayor  "  and  "  Dusenschon  "  rang  out 
loudly;  hurrahs  resounded.  People  kept  darting  out  of  the 
little  gabled  houses,  house  doors  banged,  women  shouted  and 
ran  up  and  down.  Hagel,  the  lame  shoemaker,  came  past  on 
his  chair  calling  out  "  A  million !  "  as  he  drove  on.  An  old 
woman,  who  had  lost  all  her  children,  came  out  of  her  home, 
fastening  her  big,  blue-checked  apron  as  she  went.  "  Oh !  if 
only  my  children  were  here !  We  shall  all  be  rich  now !  " 

At  the  end  of  the  harbour  street  they  found  Stiena  Dusen- 
schon standing,  preening  and  pirouetting,  under  Rieke  Thom- 
son's window,  smiling  to  herself.  She  was  over  seventy  now. 
"  Have  you  heard  ?  "  she  cried  in  a  loud  chant. 

"  Poor  mother!  "  said  Kai  Jans. 

Rieke  put  her  big  head  out  of  the  window  and,  recognising 
them,  said  scornfully,  "  Well,  Pe  Ontjes,  well,  Kai  Jans,  do 
you  believe  now  that  Tjark  Dusenschon  will  bring  the  Holy- 
land  to  pass?  I  have  always  said  he  would." 

"  You  have  always  been  right,"  said  Pe.  "  Where  is  Tjark 
Dusenschon?  We  have  another  laurel  wreath  for  him." 

"  He's  mocking  at  us !  "  cried  Rieke  in  shrill  excitement. 
"  You  two  will  never  come  to  anything,  never." 

As  they  went  along  the  streets  and  through  the  market-place 
people  came  streaming  out  of  the  taverns  discussing  with 
drunken  voices  whether  they  should  go  to  the  sandbank.  Some 
determined  to  go  to  the  club  and  salute  Dusenschon. 

"  Come!  "  said  Pe  Ontjes. 

"  Oh,  let  me  go  home,"  said  Kai.  "  I  had  rather  not  come 
to  the  club.  I  have  looked  up  to  all  these  people  since  I  was 
a  child,  and  I  almost  do  still.  It's  horrible  to  see  kings  dragged 
into  the  mud." 

'  They're  only  beer  and  card  kings.     It  will  do  you  good," 
said  Pe  Ontjes.     "Come!" 

As  they  drew  near  the  club  they  could  already  hear  the  loud 
roar  of  voices.  They  went  in  and  opened  the  door  and  saw 
fifteen  or  twenty  members  sitting  round  the  table  amid  clouds 
of  smoke,  with  a  big  glass  full  in  front  of  them.  On  the  table 
and  all  round  the  room  were  all  sorts  of  childish  objects  — 
cups,  albums,  stuffed  birds,  cheap  painted  statuettes,  mixed  up 
together  in  senseless  confusion.  Their  effect  was  anything  but 
beautiful.  In  the  centre  of  the  long  table  there  was  a  huge 


HOLYLAND  271 

wooden  pig  with  a  wreath  of  sausages  round  his  neck,  which 
had  been  subscribed  at  a  private  and  extraordinary  meeting  of 
the  club,  to  do  honour  to  the  club  and  to  Dusenschon.  Above 
Tjark  Dusenschon's  chair  hung  the  laurel  wreath  which  he  had 
brought  from  Berlin.  He  himself  was  no  longer  present. 
Daniel  Peters,  still  an  elegant  figure,  in  spite  of  his  sixty  years 
—  a  mass  of  conceit  from  the  crown  of  his  head  to  the  soles 
of  his  feet  —  was  standing  on  a  chair,  the  flow  of  his  oratory 
interrupted  by  the  noise.  Doctor  Winsing's  coarse  voice  rose 
above  the  rest.  "  Come,  mayor;  you  might  just  as  well  confess 
it  now ;  did  you  and  Suhlsen  really  get  to  Berlin  at  all  ?  " 

"  How  many  stories  has  the  factory,  eh,  Suhlsen  ?  " 

They  all  laughed  and  shouted,  "  Suhlsen  says  two,  and  the 
mayor  says  three!  " 

"  They  were  seen  in  Hamburg  on  Thursday  evening.  When 
did  they  go  to  Berlin,  in  that  case?  " 

"  Where  is  Dusenschon?  " 

Daniel  Peters  stroked  his  beautiful,  long  moustache.  "  Gen- 
tlemen —  " 

"Goon!" 

"  Since  we  knew  already  what  to  think  of  Herr  Dusenschon, 
the  journey  to  Berlin  was  certainly  superfluous.  Nevertheless, 
I  and  my  respected  colleague  did  go  to  Berlin,  in  our  supreme 
devotion  to  duty,  and  did  see  everything  in  all  its  details."  He 
again  thoughtfully  stroked  his  moustache  and  said  very  ear- 
nestly, "  Gentlemen,  I  am  well  aware  that  this  room  is  not  the 
official  centre  of  Hilligenlei;  the  distinctions  it  confers  are  not 
the  official  distinctions,  which  will,  gentlemen,  be  conferred  in 
the  chambers  of  our  time-honoured  town  hall;  but  I  merely 
state  a  universally  recognized  truth  when  I  say  that  this  room 
has  often  contained,  as  it  does  at  this  moment,  the  best  intel- 
ligence of  our  ancient  town.  That  being  so,  the  distinctions 
which  it  has  to  confer  are  not  to  be  despised." 

"Good!  go  on!'; 

"  I  have  to  acquaint  you,  my  honoured  friends,  that  the  Hil- 
ligenlei Club,  founded  March  3Oth,  1848,  of  which  I  have  at 
this  moment  the  honour  to  be  president,  has  unanimously 
elected  as  an  honorary  member  Mr.  Dusenschon,  owner  of  the 
sausage  factory,  which,  be  it  said  with  confidence,  will  be  the 
most  important  in  Germany  in  the  course  of  a  year.  I  say 


272  HOLYLAND 

again,  to  express  the  feelings  of  the  meeting,  unanimously 
elected." 

Thunders  of  applause  and  an  outburst  of  shouts  followed. 
"  That  is  certainly  magnificent !  "  "  That  is  certainly  an  hon- 
our to  the  club!"  "That  is  Hilligenlei  all  over  —  not  a 
single  carping  voice!  "  They  shook  hands  all  round  with 
every  expression  of  serious  satisfaction. 

Lau,  the  corn  merchant,  had  certainly  chosen  an  inopportune 
moment.  He  pressed  his  way  to  the  table,  through  the  smoke 
and  the  up-lifted  glasses,  crying, 

"  Where's  Dusenschon  gone  with  the  money?  What  has 
he  done  with  the  money?  I  have  been  in  Berlin  —  it's  all  a 
swindle." 

They  did  not  understand.  The  magistrate,  who  disgraced 
his  high  and  noble  office  by  drinking  more  than  he  ought  every 
evening,  folded  his  hands  round  his  beaker  and,  rising  to  his 
feet,  said  with  no  expression  in  his  bleared  eyes,  but  an  air 
of  great  importance,  "Mr.  Lau,  our  statutes  do  not  permit 
people  without  introduction.  .  .  ." 

"  What  is  the  matter?    What  does  he  want?  " 

Pe  Ontjes  was  in  a  towering  rage. 

"  I  have  been  in  Berlin.  It  is  an  absolute  swindle.  Do  you 
understand  the  word  or  no?  There  is  no  cardboard  fac- 
tory. It  is  all  a  cheat  and  a  swindle.  Do  you  understand 
that?" 

Suhlsen  got  up  heavily  and  stared  at  Pe  Ontjes  with  horror 
in  his  eyes.  Then  suddenly  he  collapsed  into  his  chair,  his 
head  striking  against  the  table.  The  mayor's  crimson  face 
went  as  pale  as  death. 

"  Mayor,  you  —  " 

There  was  a  great  outburst  of  shouting.  "What  is  up? 
Suhlsen!  Mayor!  You  were  there,  though.  Speak,  man! 
though  you  go  to  hell  for  it.  Did  you  see  the  factory  or  not? 
Have  you  been  in  Berlin  or  not?  " 

"  Only  to  Hamburg!  "  said  Daniel  Peters,  turning  round 
and  standing  in  an  agony  of  indecision,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground. 

The  young  man  who  had  met  Pe  Ontjes  at  the  station 
pressed  in  at  the  door,  followed  by  their  companions.  After 
them  came  the  host,  the  waiters,  people  from  the  street.  One 
of  them,  falling  on  the  mayor,  pushed  him  back  and  shouted  in 


HOLYLAND  273 

his  ear  as  if  to  wake  him,  "Where  is  the  rascal?  We  are 
shamed  before  the  country." 

Doctor  Winsing,  who  had  never  looked  at  a  medical  book 
since  his  examination,  and  made  up  for  his  total  deficiency  in 
either  intelligence  or  wit  by  a  plentiful  supply  of  self-assurance, 
cried  out  in  a  loud  voice,  "  We  do  not  permit  the  use  of  such 
language  concerning  a  member  of  our  club,  as  long  as  the  case 
is  not  proved." 

"You  do  not  permit?"  said  Pe  Ontjes.  "Who  are  you? 
We  have  been  used  to  look  up  to  you,  to  the  magistrate,  the 
students,  the  parson,  who  is  here.  But  what  are  you,  after 
all  ?  "  He  did  not  know  how  to  express  his  meaning. 

Kai  Jans  went  on :  "  The  whole  town,  its  men,  women,  and 
children,  have  looked  up  to  you,  the  possessors  of  the  dignity 
of  office.  All  believed  you  really  were  something.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  you  draw  your  salaries  and  perform  your  duties  with- 
out intelligence  or  inspiration.  You  ought  to  be  proud  and 
open-eyed,  men  of  light  and  leading  in  the  town ;  you  ought 
to  make  a  pure  and  Holyland  of  it  —  that  is  your  duty." 

Old  Suhlsen  was  carried  out.  One  artisan  after  another 
came  up  to  the  mayor  and  reproached  him,  till  the  landlord 
led  him  away  into  the  next  room  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him.  For  a  long  time  he  sat  huddled  together  in  the  corner, 
looking  up  dully  when  anyone  came  near,  and  saying,  "  Shave 
off  my  beard;  shave  off  my  beard."  He  seemed  to  feel  that 
his  beard  must  go  with  his  ruined  vanity. 

Pe  Ontjes  and  Kai  Jans  went  to  look  for  Tjark  Dusenschon. 
Kai  wanted  to  turn  aside  when  they  reached  the  park.  "  Let 
me  go  home,"  he  said.  "  I  have  seen  enough  trouble  to-day 
and  yesterday." 

"You  are  to  come,"  said  Pe  angrily;  "  we  must  settle  with 
Tjark  Dusenschon." 

"  I  want  to  see  no  more,"  said  Kai,  in  a  broken-spirited  voice. 
"  I  have  seen  all  that  is  sad  and  hideous  in  the  world  already. 
Why  should  I  see  Tjark 's  face  too?" 

"Come!  it  will  do  you  good  after  all  your  brooding." 

Just  as  they  were  turning  into  Seller  Street  a  little,  old- 
fashioned  cart  came  along,  and  they  saw  in  the  moonlight  that 
the  driver,  a  harsh-looking  peasant,  turned  to  look  sharply  at 
them  as  they  went  by.  They  had  gone  some  way  down  the 
street  when  Pe  Ontjes  said  suddenly,  "  Do  you  know,  that 


274  HOLYLAND 

peasant  looked  to  me  suspicious.  Listen!  Where  is  he  go- 
ing?" 

They  stood  still  to  listen,  and  heard  the  cart  rattle  down 
the  harbour  street. 

"Do  you  hear?  He's  driving  down  to  the  factory.  Let's 
see  where  he  stops." 

They  hurried  down  to  the  factory  and  found  it  lit  up  as 
usual,  work  proceeding  inside,  pigs  squealing.  They  looked 
found  them  in  astonishment.  The  cart  must  be  somewhere. 
Then  Kai  perceived  it  on  the  road  below  the  dyke,  hidden  by 
the  dark  wall  that  rose  behind  it.  Going  up  to  it,  Pe  looked  up 
sharply  and  said  in  a  low  tone,  "  Whom  are  you  waiting  for, 
Bahne  Voss  of  Krautstiel?" 

"  That's  nobody's  business !  "  said  Bahne,  laughing. 

"  Stay  here,  and  don't  utter  a  sound,"  said  Pe  softly,  "  or 
you  will  feel  my  fist  on  your  jaw.  Kai,  go  to  the  factory  and 
see  if  he  is  there  —  you  may  drive  him  into  my  arms." 

Kai  went  over  to  the  shed  and  through  all  the  half-dark 
rooms,  looking  for  the  office.  Then,  following  the  squealing 
of  the  pigs,  he  found  himself  in  a  long  passage  that  ran  down 
to  the  styes,  and  there,  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  he  could  see 
a  hugely  tall  man  stumbling  awkwardly,  with  bent  back,  after 
one  of  the  pigs.  He  recognized  Jeff  Buhmann. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  he  said.  "What  are  you 
doing  here?  Do  you  run  after  the  pig,  and  catch  hold  of  its 
tail,  and  live  in  the  shed?" 

"  Hallo !  "  said  Jeff,  wiping  the  sweat  from  his  brow.  "  It's 
you,  Kai!" 

"Tell  me,  what  is  all  this?  Where  is  Tjark  Dusen- 
schon  ?  " 

"Oh!"  he  said,  breathless,  in  a  voice  of  keen  distress,  "I 
don't  understand  it  at  all.  I  have  been  here  three  days,  and 
I'm  about  done.  My  wife  thinks  that  I  am  fishing  for  eels. 
He  has  no  more  pigs  and  no  more  money,  I  think,  and  he's 
searching  for  gold  in  the  sandbank  with  his  men." 

"  There's  not  a  word  of  truth  in  it  all,"  said  Kai.  "  It's 
a  swindle." 

Jeff  sat  down  heavily.  "All  a  swindle?"  he  said.  "All  a 
swindle  ?  Where  is  he,  then  ?  " 

"  We  don't  know  —  escaped,  I  expect." 

"  Kai,  he  is  a  wonderful  man  for  all  that  —  a  wonderful 


HOLYLAND  275 

man.  Far,  far  superior  to  you  and  Pe  Ontjes.  So  it's  all  a 
swindle !  My  compliments  to  you,  Kai !  " 

"Only  tell  me  where  he  is!" 

"  An  hour  ago  he  was  in  the  office.  People  came  past  shout- 
ing about  the  sandbank  and  some  accident,  and  then  he  disap- 
peared somewhere.  I  have  always  had  a  high  opinion  of  him. 
I  must  say  he  gave  me  more  satisfaction  than  any  man  I 
know." 

"  Come  with  me  to  Pe  Ontjes." 

Pe  Ontjes  stood  by  the  cart,  waiting  in  vain.  Some  people 
came  past  and,  recognising  his  voice,  shouted,  "  We've  got  him. 
We  put  him  in  the  cart  and  brought  him  to  the  town  hall,  and 
took  the  money.  It's  in  the  Savings  Bank  again.  We  let  him 

go." 

"  What  sort  of  state  of  mind  was  he  in?  "  asked  Kai. 

"  Angry  enough,  as  one  might  expect,  otherwise  quite  un- 
moved. His  only  fear  seemed  to  be  of  punishment.  I  expect 
he  made  his  way  on  foot  to  the  nearest  station." 

Pe  Ontjes,  Jeff,  and  Kai  Jans  made  their  way  to  the  long 
house.  "  I  must  say,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  "  that  I  am  disappointed 
at  not  seeing  him." 

He  went  up  to  the  house,  and,  finding  Stiena  Dusenschon's 
door  open,  went  upstairs,  only  to  descend  again  immediately, 
declaring,  "  The  house  is  empty." 

They  returned  to  the  street  discussing  where  he  could  be. 
Jeff  happened  to  look  across  to  the  smithy,  and  saw  that  the 
door,  which  was  split,  had  been  carefully  closed.  "  Good  Heav- 
ens! "  he  whispered.  "  I  know  where  he  is!  "  going  up  to  the 
door. 

There,  in  the  moonlight  pouring  in  through  the  western 
window,  there  sat,  on  the  old,  broken-down  carriage  that  had 
once  been  Kissen's,  and  for  which  they  had  once  made  a  lot- 
tery, there  sat  Tjark  Dusenschon  with  Stiena,  his  old  grand- 
mother, by  his  side.  Opposite  them,  on  an  overturned  barrow, 
the  mayor,  Daniel  Peters.  Tjark  was  holding  forth,  his  clear 
eyes  shining. 

Kai  Jans  addressed  him  in  passionate  words:  "What  are 
you  going  to  do  now?  Tell  me  what  you  think  about!  In 
what  a  wretched  state  you  must  go  out  into  the  world !  " 

"Wretched!"  said  Tjark  in  astonishment,  taking  hold  of 


276  HOLYLAND 

his  imposing  pocket-flaps  with  both  hands.  "  You  are  really 
too  stupid." 

"Hit  him  in  the  face,"  said  Pe  Ontjes. 

"  That  is  madness,  Pe  Ontjes,"  said  Jeff,  seating  himself  on 
the  anvil.  "  He  cannot  help  it.  His  misfortune  is  that  he 
confuses  gross  and  net,  and  he  did  that  as  a  boy." 

"  Do  not  forget,"  said  Tjark  Dusenschon,  with  calm  indif- 
ference, "  that  I  am  an  honorary  member  of  the  club." 

"  What  does  life  mean  to  you  ?  "  asked  Kai,  greatly  troubled. 
"What  are  your  thoughts?  What  is  your  purpose  in  the 
world?" 

"What  do  you  mean?"  said  Tjark.  "Don't  be  offended, 
Kai,  but  you  are  a  fool.  It  is  clear  that  one  must  take  money 
when  one  can  get  it." 

Afraid  that  the  man  would  impose  upon  him  again,  Pe 
Ontjes  said,  "  Come,  Kai ;  let  us  go." 

"  What  are  you,  though  ?  "  insisted  Kai  eagerly.  "  What 
is  your  motive?  What  is  your  purpose  in  life?  Tell  me,  Tjark 
—  you  have  some  serious  aim !  " 

Tjark  looked  at  him  with  a  gentle  smiling,  shaking  his  head. 
"  Poor  fellow,"  he  said.  "  You  are  really  troubled  about  me. 
What  do  I  know  of  myself?  Things  amuse  me."  He  listened. 
"  It  is  quiet  outside  now.  I  must  go.  I  didn't  want  to  fall 
into  the  clutches  of  that  gang." 

When  they  came  out  again  into  the  clear  moonlight  Kai 
said  in  a  tone  of  unutterable  weariness,  "  Let  me  go  now,  Pe 
Ontjes.  I  have  seen  misery  enough." 

"  No!  "  said  Pe  shortly.  "You  must  come  with  me.  We 
must  see  how  the  town  takes  it.  We  must  fight  this  thing 
through,  Kai.  Truth  and  Reality  are  our  watchwords,  and  we 
must  face  whatever  comes,  however  awful." 

Returning  to  the  park,  they  were  met  by  crowds  returning 
from  the  sandbank,  raging,  shouting,  and  laughing  at  the  way 
in  which  they  had  been  swindled  there.  Wild  shouts  rang, 
and  people  hurried  to  and  fro  on  every  side.  From  every  house 
and  street  there  was  a  ringing  of  bells.  Pe  Ontjes  laughed. 

"  Don't  laugh,"  said  Kai  Jans.  "  Is  it  a  time  for  laughing 
when  your  native  town  is  sunk  to  such  depths  of  degradation  ?  " 

"What  does  Hilligenlei  matter  to  me?"  asked  Pe  Ontjes 
wildly.  "  Nothing  matters  except  wife  and  children." 

"  Don't  say  that!  "  said  Kai.     "  Don't  say  that!     They  are 


HOLYLAND  277 

our  brothers  and  sisters.  If  we  did  not  think  that,  we  should 
fight  like  wild  beasts." 

"  Brothers  and  sisters,  indeed !  " 

A  man  came  towards  them  in  the  moonlight  from  the  chest- 
nut avenue,  in  whom  he  recognized  Pete  Boje — come  over  from 
Hamburg  to  spend  the  half-day  with  his  mother.  He  had 
taken  Heinke  to  stay  with  Anna,  that  she  might  not  be  alone 
on  such  a  tumultuous  night,  and  was  now  on  his  way  to  the 
station  to  catch  the  night  train  back  to  Hamburg.  He  knew 
all  that  had  happened,  and  said,  "  In  the  future  one  will  hardly 
dare  to  say  that  one  comes  from  Hilligenlei,"  then  walked  by 
their  side  in  silence  to  the  station. 

"If  that  were  all!"  said  Kai  Jans,  "but  just  look  at  all 
these  people!  " 

Some  hundred  or  two  hundred  men  were  running  to  the 
station  from  all  directions.  One  could  hear  the  tread  of  many 
feet  and  the  sound  of  hideous  oaths,  mixed  with  coarse,  drunken 
laughter. 

"  Listen  to  their  laughter!  "  said  Kai.  "They  don't  know 
that  they  are  so  many  madmen !  " 

Pete  Boje  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  said  with  an  air  of 
cold  indifference,  "  We  are  all  that,  Kai.  How  should  we  be 
anything  else  ?  " 

"  But  surely  you  have  always  been  happy  —  always  known 
what  you  wanted,"  said  Kai. 

Pete  gave  a  quick  laugh.  "  Yes !  I  was  young  and  fresh.  I 
found  joy  in  climbing  upwards.  But  since  I  have  got  to  the 
top—  The  endless  rush  in  our  yard,  day  in,  day  out;  trying 
an  improvement  to-day,  only  to  throw  it  aside  to-morrow  for 
a  better;  getting  through  more  business  than  other  firms  and 
other  nations ;  the  workmen  dissatisfied ;  some  people  always 
tale-bearing,  others  struggling  to  get  on  —  and  so  every  day 
and  all  day.  The  whole  thing  is  so  aimless." 

They  had  got  nearly  to  the  station.  Huge  crowds  of  men 
stood  collected  in  the  shadow  of  the  coalsheds,  waiting  silently 
to  attack  Tjark  Dusenschon  or  the  mayor  on  their  way  to  the 
station. 

"  Do  you  know,  though,"  said  Pete,  "  there  are  some  people 
who  are  happy." 

"Where?"  said  Kai,  turning  round  upon  him  swiftly. 

"  People  with  a  fixed  idea.    You  must  become  a  man  with  a 


HOLYLAND 

fixed  idea,  and  then  you  will  be  happy.  In  the  asylums  you 
will  find  men  who  are  happy  —  men  with  happy,  fixed  ideas, 
and  the  members  of  peculiar  sects !  I  have  seen  it  in  our  works 
and  in  London.  For  example,  the  Salvation  Army  people  are 
happy.  That's  it!  Just  find  a  fixed  idea,  and  you  will  be 
happy." 

"Yes!"  said  Kai,  his  eyes  burning.  "Yes,  you  are  right. 
We  are  not  very  far  from  the  time  when  men  were  like  dumb 
animals.  We  don't  live  by  reason  now  —  only  by  fancies  and 
fixed  ideas.  Oh,  Pete,  how  I  wish  I  had  such  a  fixed  idea  — 
one  that  would  apply  to  all  mankind  —  a  big,  glorious  idea  — 
that  would  bring  us  nearer  to  light  and  knowledge." 

"Good  night!"  said  Pete  .Boje  with  a  laugh.  He  shook 
hands  and  left  them. 

"  Look!  look!  "  said  Pe  Ontjes.  A  crowd  of  drunken  citi- 
zens had  brought  the  wooden  pig  from  the  club  table  and 
fastened  it  to  a  pole,  and  were  now  carrying  it,  with  loud 
groans,  through  the  peaceful  silence  of  the  lovely  moonshine. 
Some  were  men  with  grey  heads,  some  were  members  of  the 
club.  The  people  who  had  been  standing  in  the  shadow  of  the 
sheds  now  came  forward,  one  by  one,  and  joined  them.  The 
great,  noisy  crowd  filled  the  square. 

"Look!"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  waving  his  hand  towards  them. 
"  There  is  your  Hilligenlei.  That's  what  its  people  are  like. 
That's  what  humanity  is  like.  There  it  is !  " 

"  Dear  Pe  Ontjes,"  said  Kai  in  a  strange  voice,  and  catching 
hold  of  his  arm  as  if  to  prevent  himself  from  falling,  "  you  are 
a  simple  fellow,  but  from  your  childhood  —  you  have  had  a 
firm  hold  on  life  —  " 

"Boy!"  said  Lau  in  some  embarrassment.  "I  —  a  firm 
hold?  I  tell  you  Anna  Boje  and  I  are  driven  back  and  for- 
wards by  love  and  anger.  Like  everyone  else,  we  are  without 
rudder  or  compass  to  guide  us." 

Kai  Jans  let  fall  his  arm,  and  said  in  a  spiritless  voice  that 
betrayed  the  sick  horror  of  his  soul,  "  No  one  knows  anything. 
There  is  no  Holyland,  no  God.  All,  all  is  confusion !  " 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

NEXT  morning  Pe  Ontjes  went  and  told  Heinke  of  Kai  Jans' 
arrival,  and  said,  promising  her  an  antique,  gold  ornament  be- 
longing to  his  mother,  "  You  are  a  pretty  girl  and  a  clever  one, 
and  his  friend.  I'm  not  clever  enough  for  him,  and  Anna  is  so 
readily  unjust.  You  go  and  comfort  him." 

She  thought,  "  How  fortunate  it  should  just  happen  that 
the  other  has  a  month's  holiday,'  and  is  over  the  hills  and  far 
away.  I  can  give  myself  up  to  the  poor,  dear  man.  Consola- 
tion comes  easily  to  me,  for  I  am  so  happy.  Oh,  dear,  dear 
Peterkin !  " 

So  she  went  to  Mrs.  Lau  and  obtained  immediate  possession 
of  the  ornament,  picked  a  red  carnation  in  the  garden  and  put 
it  in  her  belt,  and  then  made  her  way  to  the  long  house. 

He  was  sitting  at  the  round  table  at  which  all  the  Jans  chil- 
dren had  been  christened,  eaten  their  meals,  and  done  their  les- 
sons, gazing  in  a  brown  study  out  across  the  sea. 

"  Let  us  go  upon  the  dyke,"  she  said.  He  got  up  and  shook 
her  by  the  hand.  "  I  am  a  poor  companion  for  you,  child !  " 

"  Sh !  "  she  said.  "  Pe  Ontjes  has  told  me  all  about  it. 
Come!" 

On  top  of  the  long  pier  that  ran  right  out  to  sea  she  slipped 
her  arm  through  his  with  a  movement  of  confiding  affection 
and  walked  so  by  his  side.  The  west  wind  blew  in  their  faces, 
blowing  back  her  dress.  The  sun  shone  on  the  left. 

"  Do  you  remember,  when  you  were  in  the  top  form  you 
told  me  once  that  your  ancestors  came  from  the  Marcomanni  ? 
First  they  dwelt  up  there  on  the  windy  hilltops,  and  then 
came  down  into  the  fens  and  became  farmers." 

"  They  ended  by  being  workmen  in  Hilligenlei.  The  last 
of  the  line  was  a  good-for-nothing  dreamer  with  neither  land, 
nor  rights,  nor  position  in  his  home." 

Dropping  his  arm,  she  pulled  off  her  jacket,  with  her  spark- 
ling eyes  on  him. 

279 


280  HOLYLAND 

"You  have  no  place  in  your  home?  Is  there  anything  more 
beautiful  in  your  home  than  a  beautiful  girl?  You  have  a 
place  here!  Do  you  think  it  is  easy  to  live  in  this  place  and  be 
of  it?  Would  you  be  any  better  if  the  old  farmers  bowed  be- 
fore you,  and  the  tower  of  Hilligenlei  saluted  you?" 

He  looked  her,  amazement  in  his  eyes.  "  How  you  have 
changed!  —  you  have  become  so  sweet  and  gentle!" 

"  Ah !  Peterkin !  "  thought  she. 

The  sun  shone  and  the  wind  blew.  They  walked  out  into 
the  glittering  grey  sea,  and  she  pressed  his  arm  tenderly  against 
her  yielding  side. 

"  I  have  put  on  my  best  frock!  do  you  see  that?  I  have, 
you  see,  my  flower  and  my  ornament  —  all  to  give  you  pleas- 
ure." 

He  looked  at  her  again,  wonderingly.  "  Your  mouth  used 
to  be  a  shade  too  small,"  he  said,  "  but  now  it  has  grown  strong 
and  wide.  And  your  eyes  are  darker  and  softer  than  they  were. 
They  used  to  be  like  two  fair-haired  girls  of  ten  years  old 
playing  ball  in  the  wind;  but  now  there  is  a  young  mother 
playing  with  her  child." 

"  Peterkin's  love  has  done  that,"  she  thought.  "  Sit  still, 
my  soul." 

"  What  are  you  saying?  "  she  said  aloud,  "  I  am  twenty-two 
now,  that's  what  it  is." 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  smiling  bitterly  at  himself,  "  when 
I  was  a  young  student  and  you  were  still  a  child  there  was  a 
time  when  I  cherished  the  secret  hope  that  you  would  one  day 
be  my  wife.  Thank  Heaven  I  let  that  dream  go;  thank 
Heaven  we  are  friends,  and  no  more.  What  a  long  engage- 
ment that  would  have  been!  What  a  gloomy  bridegroom! 
Finally,  he  would  have  said,  '  I  am  sorry,  Heinke  Boje,  but  I 
have  no  bread,  and  no  thoughts  for  you.'  " 

"  Don't  be  sad,"  she  said. 

"  Over  thirty,"  he  said,  "  and  still  I  don't  know  whether 
there  is  a  place  where  I  can  be  of  use  in  the  world.  God  takes 
the  others  by  the  hand  and  leads  them  to  some  field  or  other, 
be  it  ever  so  small,  saying,  '  Build  thy  house  there,  plant  thy 
garden  there.'  But  He  holds  me  for  a  fool.  For  me  He  has 
no  field.  He  condemns  me  to  be  a  huntsman  —  a  lost  hunts- 
man who  seeks  through  brush  and  briar  and  fen  a  splendid,  fab- 
ulous beast." 


HOLYLAND  281 

Her  spirits  sank,  and  she  turned  round  in  silence,  thinking, 
"  I  have  played  badly  to-day." 

When  they  reached  the  rushing  sluice  she  gave  him  her 
hand  and  said  with  trembling  lips,  "  You  are  more  to  me 
than  my  mother,  my  brothers,  and  my  sister.  I  could  not  be 
glad  if  you  were  not  happy,  whatever  fortune  came  to  me.  I 
shall  come  again  to-morrow,  and  go  on  coming,  until  you 
laugh  again."  Her  eyes  suddenly  filled  with  tears.  She  turned 
and  went  away. 

The  next  day  she  returned  in  the  same  blue  dress  and  with 
the  red  carnation,  and  again  walked  along  the  dyke  with  him 
out  to  sea.  The  sea  lay  beneath  them  clad  in  her  grey-green 
garment,  a  band  of  light  across  her  breast.  Field  after  field 
extended,  covered  with  dark-green  grass  and  bright  cornfields, 
and  beyond,  in  the  distance,  shady  farms  and  villages.  Inland 
the  land  rose  gently,  its  hillocks  covered  with  meadows,  woods, 
and  villages. 

"Look!"  she  said,  looking  round  her.  "How  beautiful 
your  home  is.  Can  you  find  no  joy  in  being  a  child  of  this 
land,  where,  for  hundreds  of  years,  so  many  brave  deeds  have 
been  done?  You  have  youth  and  intelligence  and  health.  Your 
home  and  your  youth  should  teach  you  to  seek  bravely  for  some 
good  deed  to  do." 

'  Two  years  ago,"  he  said  thoughtfully,  "  I  told  you  that 
I  had  begun  to  work.  I  wanted  to  write  a  book  to  show  how  a 
new  current  was  moving  in  our  days  —  a  morning  breeze  was 
astir  —  that  everywhere  there  was  a  longing  for  progress,  a  de- 
sire for  change,  a  courageous  spirit  of  improvement,  a  hunger 
for  knowledge  and  righteousness.  I  wanted  to  discover  the 
direction  of  this  current  to  see  what  sails  we  ought  to  set  and 
how  we  ought  to  steer  —  we  who  watch  on  shore.  I  dreamed 
of  singing  the  German  renascence.  I  had  begun  to  work  hard 
at  it,  full  of  joy  in  my  task,  and  hoping  to  find  peace  in  it. 
Then  came  the  strike.  I  had  to  go  hither  and  thither,  helping 
and  speaking,  and  the  envy,  malice,  and  uncharitableness  that 
filled  the  hearts  of  the  men  I  worked  with  rose  and  crushed 
me  like  the  powers  of  darkness.  Then  came  the  horrible  death 
of  the  two  boys,  and  yesterday  my  home  turned  into  a  Bed- 
lam. 

"  Heinke,  I  know  now  that  this  trifling  change  and  improve- 
ment and  progress  is  meaningless  and  valueless.  It  is  nothing. 


282  HOLYLAND 

It  will  come  to  nothing,  because  the  whole  basis  of  our  lives  is 
false  —  because  we  have  no  real  standard  of  values,  no  real 
religion.  Heinke,  we  lack  a  pure  and  sound  belief  —  a  belief 
that  can  lead  us  on  like  a  herald  of  light  and  joy  —  a  belief 
which  all  brave  and  thoughtful  men  can  accept.  Look!  if  we 
had  such  a  belief  everything  else  would  follow  of  itself.  It  is 
there,  at  the  foundation  of  our  life,  in  our  belief,  that  our  re- 
nascence must  begin. 

"  But  where  is  one  to  find  this  new  belief?  None  can  say 
where  it  is.  The  Almighty  does  not  give  it  to  us.  It  is  aw- 
ful to  pray  to  God,  '  Lord  show  it  me,  give  it  to  me !  I  and 
my  people  must  perish  else,  with  bleeding  hearts'  and  to  feel 
Him  looking  down  with  those  calm  eyes,  saying  nothing,  His 
eyes  always  calm  —  it  is  awful.  Only  to  you  can  I  speak  of 
this ;  you  stand  to  me  for  all  that  is  dear  and  pure  in  life." 

The  eyes  she  raised  to  his  were  full  of  tears.  "  Oh !  "  she 
thought,  "  how  I  long  to  kiss  his  hands,  his  eyes." 

"  Do  not  weep,"  he  said ;  "  be  glad  that  you  have  nothing 
to  do  with  me." 

She  turned  and  walked  in  silence  by  his  side.  In  her  youth 
she  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  him.  When  she  parted  from 
him  she  said, 

"  Do  you  remember  the  fruits  you  brought  me  from  the 
South  Sea?  It  was  the  greatest  event  in  my  youth.  And  how 
you  used  to  help  me  with  my  exercises?  You  were  always  good 
to  me,  and  that  is  why  you  are  nearer  to  me  than  my  mother 
and  my  brothers  and  sister,  and  why  I  cannot  rest  until  you 
are  glad." 

In  the  night  she  lay  awake  till  midnight,  brooding  and  pray- 
ing for  help.  And  her  prayers  were  passionate,  for  she  came  of 
a  family  that  seldom  prayed,  only  in  extremity,  and  then  with 
all  their  hearts. 

In  the  morning,  before  the  air  had  lost  its  earliest  freshness, 
she  came  again.  He  met  her  at  the  door,  and  they  went  on  to- 
gether. The  wind  blew  shrill  and  high.  The  morning  sun 
shone  above  the  distant  line  of  wood  across  from  the  hill  of 
Wotan.  And  there,  on  the  hill  of  Wotan,  a  mountain  regarded 
as  sacred  by  their  ancestors,  there,  in  the  hollow  between  the 
low  oak-trees  and  the  barrows  of  the  Huns,  there  sat,  there  in 
the  morning  brightness,  a  messenger  from  Him  whom  one  can 
neither  name  nor  comprehend.  Bending  forward  with  his 


HOLYLAND  283 

shining  feet  in  the  heather,  he  bent  his  brilliant  eyes  on  the  two 
mortals  clearly  outlined  against  the  glimmering  sea  as  they 
walked  along  the  dyke.  His  eyes  were  as  sharp  as  arrows  that 
burn  in  their  flight. 

They  went  silently  side  by  side;  the  wind  blew  back  her 
dress,  outlining  her  figure.  A  pair  of  swallows  flew  down  from 
the  hills  —  flew  close  by  their  knees.  She  stretched  out  her 
hand  to  catch  them,  and  gave  a  faint  cry,  saying  in  the  same 
breath,  as  if  some  outer  force  compelled  her.  You  said,  yester- 
day, that  the  great  need  of  our  people  and  our  time  was  a 
Holyland  on  which  to  take  their  stand,  and  from  it  draw 
a  sure  and  inward  joy  of  will  and  life.  Tell  me,  now  —  has 
there  ever  been  a  man  in  the  world  who  had  his  stand  on 
such  a  Holyland,  and  was,  therefore,  joyful,  and  reaped  a  good 
harvest?  " 

He  stood  still,  regarding  her.  "  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  I  think  the 
Saviour  did  so." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  but  I  think  He  did  so  not  as  a  simple 
man,  but  by  His  divine  power." 

"Ah,  child!"  he  said  sadly.  "Who  knows?  Soon  after 
His  death  His  true  image  was  painted  over,  decked  out  with 
gold,  and  it  has  gone  on  so.  There  are  scholars,  indeed,  who 
have  laboured  diligently  for  more  than  a  century  to  discover 
the  true  picture  under  all  the  paint  with  which  it  is  overlaid, 
and  especially  in  the  last  twenty  years  they  have  succeeded  to  a 
considerable  extent.  I  know  most  of  their  investigations.  But 
as  far  as  I  can  see  they  have  not  arrived  at  any  certainty  yet." 
He  looked  at  the  ground,  deep  in  thought,  and  then  said  hesi- 
tatingly, "  When  I  was  a  parson  I  gloried  in  His  wisdom  and 
goodness,  and  preached  about  that.  I  thought  it  did  not  mat- 
ter whether  He  was  an  immortal  spirit  or  a  simple  man.  And 
it  is  indifferent  —  no!  no!  it  is  not  indifferent  —  no!" 

The  swallows  flew  quickly  by,  with  their  sweet  chirp,  close 
to  Heinke's  knee.  She  tried  to  catch  them;  then,  raising  her 
fair  head,  she  cried, 

"  That  ought  to  be  indifferent?  That?  No!  there  is  nothing 
in  the  whole  world  more  necessary  than  that  there  should  be 
certainty  in  this.  As  long  as  there  is  no  certainty  the  Holyland 
is  an  insecure,  unstable  possession,  men's  opinions  veer  restlessly 
from  one  extreme  to  the  other,  and  every  sort  of  dogma  and 
superstition  sways  the  minds  of  men.  There  is  nothing  in  the 


284  HOLYLAND 

whole  world  more  necessary  than  that  there  should  be  certainty 
as  to  the  nature  of  the  Saviour." 

He  listened  restlessly  and  then  said  slowly,  as  if  not  sure  of 
himself,  "  Yes,  yes;  I  think  you  are  right.  If  it  were  possible," 
he  went  on,  painfully  working  out  his  thoughts,  "  if  it  were 
possible  to  find  His  real  life  beneath  all  the  overlay,  and  it  were 
proved  that  He  was  a  man,  a  mere  man,  and  one  could  pene- 
trate into  the  depths  of  His  soul  and  make  them  visible,  the 
Holyland  on  which  He  took  His  stand,  and  by  which  He 
reaped  such  a  magnificent  harvest  —  then,  yes !  then  one  could 
say,  '  Come  hither !  all  ye  people.  Look !  this  was  a  man  —  a 
man  like  ourselves,  who  stood  in  Holyland,  and  was  joyous  and 
happy.  Come  hither,  all  ye  people.  We  will  take  our  stand  on 
this  Holyland  and  build  for  the  new  birth  of  our  people !  "  .  .  . 
But  no,  it  won't  do!  The  authorities  are  not  sufficient.  I  do 
not  believe  that  it  is  possible  to  understand  His  soul,  His  life, 
now.  No,  I  do  not  believe  it.  Therefore  the  Church  will  al- 
ways rule  and  error  with  it." 

The  swallows  flew  close  to  her  knee  with  their  soft  chirp- 
ing. She  bent  down  and  held  out  her  hand  to  catch  them,  and 
they  eluded  her  shyly.  She  spoke  as  if  some  power  outside  her- 
self compelled  her,  and  her  grey  eyes  shone. 

"  You  say  that  many  people  have  worked  at  it,  and  that 
now,  now,  important  results  have  been  established?  Kai  Jans, 
try!  Go  through  their  investigations  with  your  child's  eyes 
and  the  passion  of  your  eager  heart.  Paint  a  picture  of  the 
Saviour." 

He  beat  his  breast.  "  I  ?  "  he  said.  "  I,  a  poor,  unlearned 
creature?  " 

"  It  must  be  someone  like  you  who  does  it,"  she  said,  "  a 
poor,  unlearned  creature.  Has  your  hard,  struggling  youth 
taught  you  to  see  the  sorrows  of  human  life  with  your  own  eyes 
and  your  father's?  God  has  given  you  wonderful  eyes;  they 
reveal  that  from  your  childhood  you  have  seen  men  and  things 
naked  as  they  are.  Or  are  you  frightened  of  what  people  will 


say 


He  shook  his  head  quickly.  "  I  have  long  ago  learned  not  to 
care  what  people  think  of  me.  But  I  tell  you  it  is  a  fearfully 
difficult  task.  To  make  that  long  ago,  distant,  wondrous  Being 
live  again !  Heaven  help  me,  how  can  I  do  it  ?  " 

She  took  his  arm  and  looked  into  his  face  with  her  beautiful, 


HOLYLAND  285 

earnest  eyes.  "  Try !  Begin  to-morrow  morning !  You  may 
succeed  or  not.  Be  one  of  the  many  who  stand  ready  to  help 
humanity  according  to  their  strength,  until  a  mightier  hand 
comes  to  take  the  wheel.  Begin  to-morrow,  Kai!  Search  for 
Hilligenlei!" 

They  had  come  to  a  standstill ;  she  held  and  shook  his  hands. 
"  Help,  Kai!  Do  your  part  in  the  new  birth  of  your  people, 
and  be  not  afraid !  " 

"  If  you  wish  it,"  he  said,  breathing  hard,  "  I  will  try.  You 
have  a  sweet,  wonderful  power  over  me.  I  feel  compelled  as 
by  an  angel  from  Heaven." 

She  let  his  hands  go,  and,  calling  to  the  swallows,  went  back 
with  them  to  Hilligenlei. 

"  Look!  "  she  said,  "  do  you  see  that  white  cloud  over  by  the 
Hill  of  Wotan  —  how  wonderfully  it  moves,  as  if  it  were 
alive." 

He  turned  round  and  looked  at  the  world  spread  out  before 
him,  and  at  her.  She  walked  on  calmly,  her  beautiful,  quiet 
eyes  gazing  over  the  hills. 

"  You  are  the  queen  of  it  all,"  he  said. 

"  Of  course,"  she  said.  "  Sea  and  sky  and  heath  and  hill 
cannot  do  what  I  have  just  done."  She  turned  round.  "  Where 
are  my  swallows?  " 

"  They  have  helped  you  well,"  he  said,  "  and  now  they  have 
flown  away.  You're  a  silly." 

"  Go  home  and  work!  "  she  said,  nodding  to  him.  "  I  must 
go  to  my  work  too." 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

AND  so,  with  unquiet  and  tremulous  heart,  Kai  Jans  began 
in  the  blue-walled  room  in  the  long  house  to  search  the  Gospel 
for  Hilligenlei.  Every  afternoon  Heinke  came  in  her  short 
blue  cashmere  dress  and  knocked  at  the  window,  and  he  would 
look  up  from  his  book  quite  dazed,  as  if  some  strange  monster, 
crawled  up  from  the  harbour,  was  pressing  its  forehead  against 
the  window.  Then  he  went  out  and  walked  silently  by  her 
side ;  even  then  his  thoughts  were  in  his  work. 

If  she  asked  how  he  was  getting  on  he  shook  his  head,  say- 
ing, "  My  friend  has  sent  me  all  the  books  that  have  appeared 
on  the  subject- within  the  last  ten  years,  most  of  them  by  profes- 
sors at  the  German  Universities.  I  know  most  of  them  already. 
.  .  .  It's  a  tremendous  undertaking;  I  can  hardly  believe  that 
any  certainty  will  come  of  it.  And  yet  I  am  grateful  to  you 
for  having  set  me  to  work  at  it.  Even  if  I  cannot  make  the 
holy,  royal  spring  bubble  up  again  —  even  if  it  is  too  deeply 
sunk  and  choked  —  I  can  yet  find  joy  in  working  in  the  sacred 
grove  that  has  grown  up  around  it  in  the  course  of  time." 

"There,"  said  she,  "there,  Heinke  Boje!  "  She  took  his 
arm  and  told  him  how,  as  a  child,  she  had  wanted  to  bring  him 
flowers  and  had  not  dared.  "  Now  I  have  brought  you  a  splen- 
did flower,"  and  she  told  him  of  her  daily  doings. 

Of  one  thing,  however,  she  told  him  not  a  word;  she  did 
not  tell  him  that  all  through  the  summer  she  had  sat  every 
evening  on  a  man's  knee,  and  that  now,  every  other  day,  she 
sat  on  the  edge  of  her  bed,  as  all  the  Bojes  did,  to  read  a  letter 
from  that  man,  with  sparkling  eyes  and  glowing  cheeks. 

Things  went  on  so  for  three  weeks. 

One  clear  day  in  September,  towards  the  end  of  the  fourth 
week,  she  found  him,  when  she  came  along  the  dyke  and 
knocked  at  the  window,  not,  as  usual,  buried  in  his  books,  but 
standing  gazing  out  across  the  sea  with  a  strange  calm  in  his 
eyes.  He  came  out  at  once  eagerly,  and,  taking  her  arm,  said 

286 


HOLYLAND  287 

with  marked  excitement, "  Dear,  it  is  growing  plain.  .  .  .  There 
is  no  doubt  about  it.  I  can't  tell  you  how  strangely  I  feel. 
.  .  .  It  gets  clearer  and  clearer;  it  is  the  life  of  a  man,  won- 
derfully deep,  wonderfully  pure,  wonderfully  brave,  but  the 
life  of  a  man.  It  is  all  infinitely  moving  from  beginning  to 
end :  his  faith,  his  goodness,  his  proud  longing  for  the  victory 
he  could  not  win,  his  mistakes,  his  death;  but  I  don't  think 
there  is  anything  superhuman  in  it.  It  is  a  drama,  and  angels 
experience  no  drama.  Let  us  go  out  to  sea;  I  will  try  to  tell 
you  some  of  it.  You  must  ask  me  if  I  say  anything  strange, 
and  so  it  will  all  be  clearer  to  me.  Oh,  Heinke !  you  see,  there 
is  no  one  to  whom  I  can  talk  of  this." 

So  he  began,  and  she  listened  attentively.  Often  he  paused 
to  remark  that  links  were  still  missing  here  or  there;  often 
her  simple  questions  gave  him  pause  and  showed  him  that  his 
conclusions  had  been  too  hastily  formed. 

So  it  went  on,  day  after  day.  It  was  all  new  and  strange  to 
her,  and  filled  her  with  a  glad  astonishment. 

"  I  am  not  going  to  write  anything  yet,"  he  said.  "  I  must 
think  it  all  out  clearly  and  simply ;  simplicity  is  the  first  essen- 
tial in  religion  of  all  things.  I  shall  represent  Him  entirely 
from  the  historical  point  of  view,  keeping  close  to  the  original 
sources,  only  supplying  the  very  briefest  connection  where  they 
fail.  Every  word  must  be  three  times  revised." 

At  the  beginning  of  September  he  tried  to  begin  to  write, 
but  all  kinds  of  difficulties  presented  themselves.  Once  more  he 
had  to  spend  long  days  in  searching  the  original  sources  and 
the  books  of  the  more  recent  investigators.  This  lasted  for 
weeks,  during  which  he  wrote  down  nothing. 

The  weather  being  rainy  he  took  his  walk  on  the  dyke  alone ; 
when  she  came  in  the  evening  she  found  him  quiet  and  thought- 
ful. While  she  was  there  his  father  would  return  from  work, 
and  after  eating  his  supper,  as  usual,  sitting  by  the  kitchen 
fire,  came  in  and  sat  with  them,  smoking  his  pipe.  Still  deep 
in  thought,  Kai  Jans  only  half  heard  the  old  man's  tale  of 
human  life,  and  his  eyes  wandered  to  the  beautiful,  earnest  face 
of  the  girl  beside  him. 

After  a  hard  day's  work  a  man  sits  down  by  the  edge  of  the 
calm  pond  in  the  forest  and  refreshes  himself  in  the  silence  with 
gazing  in  the  beautiful  mirror,  and  hearing  the  high  oaks  mur- 
muring in  the  breeze  of  all  that  had  happened  in  the  day. 


288  HOLYLAND 

And  the  young  woman  looked  at  him  and  thought  calmly, 
"  What  a  dear,  serious  man  he  is  become ;  I  love  him  more  and 
more.  If  I  did  not  love  the  other  so  dearly  it  would  be  an 
agony  to  me  that  he  does  not  want  me;  to  be  loved  by  him 
would  be  inexpressibly  joyful.  But  now  he  is  my  friend,  and 
I  am  happy." 

But  the  further  he  penetrated  into  that  wondrous  life,  the 
more  difficult  became  each  decision,  and  his  soul  grew  heavier 
and  heavier.  Added  to  it  all  came  day  after  day  of  gloomy 
rain.  He  was  tortured  by  the  fear  lest  his  work  might  pain 
many  good  people  and  might  send  those  of  coarser  mould,  re- 
strained by  some  secret  fear  of  the  Son  of  God,  headlong  into 
evil  courses. 

At  times,  and  more  especially  at  night,  when  incessant  work 
and  anxiety  kept  him  awake,  and  rain  and  wind  beat  mercilessly 
against  his  window,  distrust  and  terror  assailed  him  fiercely. 
"  You  are  wrong,  you  are  wrong.  He  was  eternal,  divine,  a 
supernatural  being.  Woe  to  you!  you  are  committing  mortal 
sin !  "  In  the  middle  of  the  night  he  seemed  to  hear  it. 
"  Arise !  the  two  greatest  men  of  thy  race  are  waiting  at  thy 
door  to  speak  with  thee.  .  .  .  Look  at  Luther's  angry  face. 
'  Does  thy  belief  step  over  me  like  a  step  on  the  ladder  ?  ' ' 
"Yes,  it  does."  And  lo,  who  is  that  behind  Martin  Luther? 
The  old  man  from  Weimar  himself,  mocking  at  thee.  "  Don't 
trouble  yourself!  you  can  never  weld  together  those  discordant 
elements,  Christianity  and  the  German  race !  "  "  Yes,  I  shall." 

Then  when  morning  came,  grey  and  sunless,  he  shrank  from 
his  work,  and,  casting  aside  his  pen,  went  out. 

There  on  the  dyke,  with  the  boisterous  wind  blowing  gloom- 
ily around  him  and  the  rain  beating  heavily  against  him,  he 
fought  the  old  fight  again,  wrestling  in  speech  with  God. 
'  Thou  knowest  I  have  sought  Thee  and  Thy  Holyland  from 
my  childhood,  and  Thou,  therefore,  hast  laid  upon  me  immeas- 
urable sorrow.  Where  for  me  has  been  the  joyousness  of  youth  ? 
Thou  knowest  how  it  has  tortured  me  all  my  days  that  for 
two  hundred  years  the  Church  has  reviled  the  heroes,  the  poets, 
the  pioneers  among  my  race ;  how,  because  '  they  believed  in  no 
Saviour,  because  they  were  not  Christians,'  they  were  thrust 
aside  from  Thee.  .  .  .  Can  I  endure  it?  ...  Thou  knowest 
how  it  has  tortured  me  all  my  days  that  all  those  of  my  race 
that  seek  for  progress,  artisans,  sailors,  merchants,  teachers, 


HOLYLAND  289 

artists,  all  those  whose  minds  are  refreshed  by  the  breath  of 
wisdom,  all  those  who  are  strong  and  eager,  have  fallen  away 
from  the  beliefs  of  the  Church,  and  therefore  stand  in  the 
midst  of  the  struggle  of  human  existence  without  any  nelief, 
that  is,  without  any  rest  for  their  feet.  .  .  .  Can  I  endure  it? 
Thou  knowest  that  I  love  Thee  as  truly  as  those  that  hold  the 
old  belief,  that  I  do  not  wish  to  destroy  and  have  no  joy  in 
destruction,  but  would  rather  build,  and,  as  far  as  my  poor 
strength  permits,  will  build  a  new  house  of  belief  on  the  old 
holy  ground ;  a  house  even  be  it  only  a  log  hut  at  first,  in  which 
those  among  my  people  who  are  simple  and  serious  and  child- 
like of  heart  may  dwell  and  find  their  happiness  in  dwelling 
there.  And,  therefore,  I  am  daring  to  do  what  I  do.  If  Thou 
forbiddest  me,  I  shall  not  listen." 

When  he  came  home  again  he  had  so  far  recovered  his  spirits 
as  to  continue  step  by  step  to  follow  the  course  of  the  holy 
hero's  life.  In  the  evening  he  sat  under  the  oak  trees,  by  the 
deep  pond  in  the  forest,  saying  no  word  of  what  lay  between 
his  soul  and  God  alone. 

At  last  there  came  a  lovely  sunny  September  morning,  a 
Friday;  a  day  when  all  through  the  countryside  one  could  see 
the  flash  of  the  sickle  and  the  wheat  set  up  in  beauteous  sheaves ; 
a  day  when  he  reached  the  end  of  his  researches  and  at  last  saw 
the  way  that  led,  high  and  clear,  into  the  future  of  mankind. 
Now  he  could  begin  to  write  all  he  saw  as  a  living  thing.  And 
he  drew  a  deep  breath. 

When  she  came  he  rose  up  and  said,  laughing,  "  I  feel  so 
light-hearted  and  joyous!  AJ1  the  ghosts  have  gone!  " 

She  looked  at  him  with  merry  eyes.  "  You  look  like  the 
young  farmers  who  get  up  ever  so  early  at  this  season  and  go 
out  to  the  cornfield  they  are  going  to  reap." 

"  And  you !  "  he  said,  with  beaming  looks,  "  what  has  come 
over  you?  Do  you  think  my  eyes  are  blind  to  all  beauty? 
Now  .  .  .  now  I  have  found  my  sight,  I  can  see  what  I  used 
to  see  in  the  days  when  I  was  a  student  in  Berlin." 

A  kind  of  terror  smote  her,  and  she  made  no  reply. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  let's  go  a  long,  long  walk  together  — 
quite  alone.  What  is  it,  child?  You  can't  be  surprised  at  my 
looking  at  you!  Do  you  know,  life  has  become  quite  clear  to 
me." 


290  HOLYLAND 

"  You  mustn't  look  at  me  like  that,"  she  said,  and  her  voice 
quivered. 

He  took  her  and  laughed  out  gaily,  walking  close  by 
her  side.  "  And  why  mayn't  I  ?  You're  no  longer  in  the  dream 
where  womanhood  and  girlhood  meet.  This  year  has  made  you 
a  woman,  and  such  a  woman !  " 

She  laid  her  two  hands  on  his  and  implored  him  with  ill- 
concealed  anxiety,  "  Dear  boy,  please  .  .  .  please  don't  talk 
to  me  so." 

He  did  not  see  the  anxiety  —  he  only  saw  the  friendship 
and  the  love  shining  in  her  lovely  eyes,  and  kissed  her  restrain- 
ing hands,  laughing  in  his  exaltation  of  spirits.  Then,  looking 
at  her  hand,  he  kissed  it  again  and  said,  his  heart  bounding 
with  irrepressible  joyousness,  "  For  seven  years  I  have  sat  brood- 
ing, brooding  on  the  hill  of  sorrow,  till  at  last  the  most  lovely 
maiden  in  the  land  came  and  smote  the  hill  with  her  echoing 
voice,  and  I  leapt  to  my  feet  and  beheld  the  world  and  the  sun 
and  the  kingdom  of  Heaven."  He  took  her  by  the  shoulders, 
and,  looking  into  her  face,  said,  "  Look  at  me  .  .  .  look  at  me. 
.  .  .  How  beautiful  you  are !  " 

She  cried  out  in  pain,  "  Dear  Kai  .  .  .  don't  talk  so !  I 
cannot,  cannot  tell  you." 

But  his  whole  heart  was  singing  a  joyful  carol,  and  he  did 
not  hear  the  trouble  in  her  voice.  "  Come,  let  us  go  up  to  the 
heights  by  the  quiet  way  through  the  fields.  There  shall  be 
nothing  but  joy  to-day!  To-morrow  I  will  begin  to  sing  the 
song  of  the  Saviour,  such  as  no  man  yet  has  sung.  .  .  .  Up  till 
now  you  have  always  talked  and  I  said  nothing;  a  tiresome, 
speechless  lover  I  have  been  to  you.  Poor  child,  you  have  never 
had  any  pleasure  from  me.  Have  I  ever  told  you  how  beauti- 
fully you  walk?  like  a  young  queen  who  has  just  beeen  anointed. 
Have  I  ever  told  you  how  beautifully  you  carry  your  shoul- 
ders? as  if  there  sat  a  dove  on  each,  whom  you  cradled  as  you 
went.  Have  I  ever  told  you  how  beautiful  your  hair  is?  it 
must  be  wonderful  when  it  lies  over  your  white  shoulders. 
Yes,  yes,  you  will  have  a  lover  to  rejoice  in  you,  one  who  is 
no  dreamer." 

All  the  hardness,  all  the  reserve  seemed  wiped  out  of  his 
face,  and  all  the  sorrow.  When  the  windows  of  a  house  that 
has  long  stood  closed  and  silent  are  cleansed  and  opened,  and 
the  door  cast  wide,  then  a  crowd  of  pretty  children  stream 


HOLYLAND  291 

out  laughing  into  the  lovely  garden :  so  from  his  eyes,  dear  and 
true,  there  shone  intelligence  and  beauty,  such  a  flood  of  love 
and  goodness  pouring  upon  her  that  she  could  not  turn  away 
her  eyes. 

"  How  different  you  are!  "  she  said.  "  Don't  talk  to  me  so! 
Please,  please,  Kai,  don't  talk  so  —  please." 

"  I  am  just  what  I  have  always  been,  Heinke,"  he  said,  in 
a  voice  of  tender  sympathy,  stroking  her  hands ;  "  only  I  have 
been  sick  and  sorry  for  a  long  time  and  you  have  had  to  suffer 
with  me.  Now  I  am  well  again.  You  must  not  be  afraid,  my 
dear,  because  it  all  comes  out  at  once,  in  a  rush." 

"  Dear!  "  she  said,  "  dear  one!  "  She  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands  and  groaned  inwardly,  "  I  cannot  tell  him  .  .  .  no,  I 
cannot.  This  is  the  first  happy  day  in  his  life !  " 

"  Smile  at  me!  isn't  it  like  a  fairy  tale?  Here  am  I,  a  poor 
little  working  man,  walking  along  the  dyke  with  the  fairest 
maiden  in  all  the  land  by  my  side!  Whither?  Whither? 
Let  us  take  the  grassy  path  and  we  shall  be  on  the  top  in  half 
an  hour.  There  is  no  one  there;  we  can  be  together  for  hours. 
I  will  find  a  place  in  the  wood  and  there  kneel  before  you  and 
look  at  you,  only  look  at  you,  no  more,  for  hour  after  hour. 
There  is  no  greater  pleasure  —  oh,  you  have  such  a  delicate 
white  face !  you  dainty  white  maid  of  Holstein !  " 

She  tried  to  say  to  him,  "  I  can't,  Kai  ...  I  can't.  ...  I 
am  promised  to  another.  ...  I  love  another  beyond  every- 
thing," but  the  words  would  not  come;  she  could  not  say  it. 
Such  happiness  beamed  in  his  eyes;  the  beating  of  his  heart 
made  his  voice  tremble.  "  Let  him  be  happy  for  one  day  .  .  . 
poor,  precious  man.  It  is  so  delightful  to  see  him  happy.  How 
his  love  burns,  how  his  eyes  shine.  He  shall  have  my  hands, 
both  my  hands  .  .  .  but  no  more.  ...  I  cannot  let  him  do 
anything  more." 

So  she  walked  by  his  side  on  the  green  grass,  through  the 
wide,  rich  meadowland,  her  heart  torn  by  uneasy  apprehension. 

He  was  as  happy  as  a  boy.  He  laughed  and  played  with  her 
hands,  then  let  them  fall  to  pick  the  flowers  growing  at  the 
edge  of  the  ditch,  which  he  fastened  in  her  hair  and  bosom, 
and  a  daisy  garland  round  her  waist.  She  let  him  do  his  will, 
thinking  first  in  pain,  "  O  misery,"  then  in  sweet  content, 
"  The  dear  man.  He  shall  have  my  hands,  both  my  hands," 
and  she  slipped  her  hands  into  his,  thinking,  "  No  more." 


292  HOLYLAND 

Half  an  hour  later  they  had  reached  the  deepest  solitude  of 
the  wood.  She,  still  adorned  with  her  flowers,  sat  on  the  edge 
of  a  ruinous  old  wall,  while  he  knelt  before  her,  with  his  arms 
round  her,  gazing  up  into  her  face  in  unutterable  rapture, 
and  imploring  her  again  and  again,  "  Give  me  your  lips." 
Again  and  again  she  bent  down  to  him  and  kissed  him  till  he 
talked  like  one  possessed.  With  overwhelming  suddenness  he 
saw  spread  out  before  his  eyes  the  glory  of  the  world,  with 
its  sure  and  dazzling  hope  for  himself  and  all  humanity,  and 
now  a  pure  and  lovely  woman  was  in  his  arms. 

Clouds  blew  over  the  wood  from  the  east;  the  first  heavy 
drops  fell  through  the  sultry  air,  audible  on  the  foliage  of  the 
trees.  "  I  can  never  gaze  enough  at  you.  I  shall  never  rise 
again.  I  am  so  at  rest,  so  happy;  for  the  first  time  in  my  life 
I  am  filled  with  happiness  and  peace.  .  .  .  Oh,  your  kisses 
...  it  comes  to  you  by  nature,  but  I  must  learn  from  you 
how  to  kiss." 

"  Kai,  Kai,  no  more.  Dear  one,  no  more  to-day.  To-mor- 
row —  oh,  to-morrow  —  no  more  now !  " 

"  Yes,  to-day  and  to-morrow  and  every  day.  I  am  the  most 
blissful  man  in  the  world.  I  have  often  wondered  why  all 
other  men  seemed  so  gay  and  peaceful  and  serene,  and  I  alone 
must  always  suffer,  must  bear  the  pain  of  want  of  money,  of 
trouble  at  home,  of  continual  brooding.  But  now  I  am  glad 
of  it;  now  that  I  have  found  happiness  I  can  feel  the  deeper 
bliss  and  thankfulness.  .  .  .  Reverent  I  have  always  been,  dear, 
you  know  that;  since  I  was  a  child  I  have  always  looked  up 
with  a  humble  heart  to  the  mysterious  Ruler  of  the  World, 
but  never  did  I  feel  such  profound  reverence  as  to-day,  when  I 
recognize  His  mysterious  hand  in  the  most  beautiful  of  created 
things.  Yes  .  .  .  now  I  can  tell  the  story  of  the  Saviour.  He 
grew  up  from  the  earth  and  was  the  most  beautiful  of  the 
children  of  men ;  more  beautiful  even  than  you !  " 

She  sat  looking  at  him  and  holding  his  two  hands  in  her  lap. 
The  sweetness  of  his  love  swept  over  her,  as  wave  after  wave 
breaks  over  a  vessel  lying  stranded  on  its  side,  until  it  is  alto- 
gether broken  and  washed  away.  "  He  has  the  elder  right; 
from  my  childhood  he  has  been  my  friend.  I  have  been  wrong. 
I  thought  he  was  only  a  dreamer  and  loved  me  not;  I  never 
knew  how  I  had  secretly  grown  to  love  him.  Never  before 
have  I  seen  this  new,  beautiful  side  of  him.  How  beautiful 


HOLYLAND  293 

his  hard  face  and  his  bright  eyes  are.  .  .  .  Alas !  what  am  I  to 
do?  What  am  I  doing?  Let  me  go,  Kai  .  .  .  Kai,  don't  — 
don't  kiss  me  any  more." 

"  Give  me  your  lips.  I  shall  not  sleep  to-night  if  I  have 
lost  one  kiss." 

"  It's  beginning  to  rain,  Kai.  .  .  .  We  must  go  home." 

"  Let  it  rain,  Heinke,  let  it  rain ;  it  will  bring  nothing  but 
blessings  on  your  dear  fair  head." 

She  bent  down  to  him  with  a  gesture  of  passionate  abandon- 
ment and  kissed  him  again  and  again,  her  heart  rent  in  twain. 
"  Oh,  if  he  could  know  and  behold  this !  He  has  given  to  me 
all  the  purity  of  his  youth,  and  now  I  am  sitting  here  with 
another.  Oh,  is  it  possible.  ...  I  am  a  wretched  creature. 
.  .  .  Oh,  I  must  leave  him  and  turn  to  this  one.  ...  I  have 
never  known  how  much  I  loved  him.  .  .  .  No,  no.  I  cannot 
leave  him ;  he  would  despise  and  hate  me,  and  that  would  kill 
me.  Oh,  unhappy  that  I  am,  how  dear  his  eyes  are;  they  are 
to  blame.  I  will  look  at  them  no  more."  She  covered  her 
eyes  with  her  hands  and  groaned  aloud,  "  Don't  kiss  me  any 
more  .  .  .  it's  raining  so.  ...  Come,  dear  Kai,  I  mustn't 
do  it  any  more  —  I  mustn't." 

He  sprang  to  his  feet,  and,  sitting  by  her  side,  put  his  arms 
round  her.  "  Let  it  rain  —  only  give  me  your  lips  .  .  .  why 
are  they  so  red,  why  do  they  kiss  so  burningly?  Oh,  your 
mouth  is  wonderful;  your  eyes  are  inexpressibly  sweet.  .  .  . 
It  is  strange  that  your  cheeks  do  not  burn." 

"  You  must  kiss  them,  Kai,  then  they  too  will  burn.  Come, 
dear,  dear  one,  come  to  me."  She  turned  to  him  and  kissed 
him  without  ceasing  on  cheek  and  mouth.  Her  hair  had  be- 
come loose,  and  she  undid  it  and  spread  the  soft  waves,  on 
which  the  rain  fell  in  heavy  drops,  all  over  him.  Her  breath 
came  hard  and  her  whole  body  trembled.  "  I  must  do  what  I 
am  doing,"  she  thought,  "  God  forgive  me.  To-morrow 
I  will  tell  him  —  to-day  is  a  day  of  laughter  and  tears,  kisses 
and  gnashing  of  teeth.  Mother  was  right  when  she  said, 
1  You  Bojes  will  all  suffer  because  of  your  proud,  passionate 
hearts.'  Come  to  me,  Kai ;  to-day  all  shall  be  given  you. 
Come  .  .  .  there  .  .  .  now.  Kiss  me,  kiss  me.  Your  kisses 
are  dear  and  pure." 

The  heavy  summer  rain  wet  her  thin  dress  so  that  it  clung 
close  to  her  form;  he  passed  his  hand  over  her,  kissing  the  wet 


294  HOLYLAND 

garment  and  praising  the  beauty  of  her  limbs  in  eager,  trem- 
bling words.  So  they  sat  at  the  edge  of  the  wood  under  the 
young  beeches,  he  in  happiness,  she  with  tortured  conscience, 
till  the  dusk  came. 

Then  they  rose  and  went  down  from  the  heights  of  the 
valley,  turning  into  the  way  that  led  to  Hilligenlei.  It  was  an 
ancient  way,  that  had  been  tramped  by  all  kinds  of  feet,  and 
now  these  two  passed  along  it.  He  spoke  of  the  happiness  of 
to-morrow,  she  said  nothing  of  the  misery  of  to-morrow. 

She  came  home  and  went  up  into  her  room.  Then,  ringing 
her  hands,  she  quickly  changed  her  clothes,  and  then,  throwing 
herself  on  her  bed,  stared  out  into  the  darkness.  Her  mother 
came  in  and  said  that  she  was  going  to  spend  the  evening 
with  Anna,  but  she  made  no  answer. 

She  cried  aloud,  over  and  over  again,  without  her  own 
knowledge,  "  What  am  I  to  do  ?  "  For  a  time  it  seemed  clear 
that  Kai  Jans  had  the  elder  claim.  Then  she  saw  the  other, 
alone  and  unhappy,  with  all  his  life  the  bitter  feeling  in  his 
heart,  "  That  which  was  most  sacred  has  betrayed  you."  .  .  . 
Then  she  resolved  to  write  to  Kai  and  tell  him,  "  I  cannot ; 
I  am  promised  to  another,"  but  then  she  heard  his  misery  break 
forth  in  a  loud  cry.  She  could  come  to  no  conclusion,  and 
wandered  all  over  the  house  seeking  for  a  room  where  she  could 
leave  her  sorrow  on  the  other  side  of  the  threshold. 

At  last,  she  could  not  have  said  how,  she  found  herself  in 
the  gable  room.  There,  as  if  compelled  by  some  might  stronger 
than  her  own,  she  fell  suddenly  on  to  her  knees  by  the  table 
where  they  had  sat  together,  first  looking  at  the  pictures,  after- 
wards she  sitting  on  his  knee.  Then  her  tears  came  at  last. 
She  wept  aloud,  stroking  the  table-cloth  and  the  arm  of  the 
chair  with  her  hand,  and  kissing  them  as  she  spoke  to  him. 
"  My  true  love,  my  dear,  dear  one,  listen  a  moment.  I  cannot 
live  and  know  you  alone  and  sorrowful.  Ah,  my  dear,  how 
quickly  you  caught  me,  how  fast  you  held  me,  how  you  trusted 
me,  how  good  and  dear  you  were!  You  did  not  ask  how  it 
stood  with  soul  and  body;  you  trusted  wholly  in  my  goodness. 
You  laid  your  pure  young  manhood  at  my  feet.  .  .  .  Oh, 
come  to  me,  come.  ...  I  long  to  show  you  how  I  love  you." 
She  wept  and  stroked  the  table-cloth,  and  gradually  became 
calmer.  Her  tears  ceased  and  things  became  clear  to  her. 

She  lit  the  lamp,  and,  sitting  down  at  his  desk,  wrote  a  short 


HOLYLAND  295 

letter  to  Kai  Jans,  telling  him  of  her  engagement  and  how  she 
had  not  been  able  to  tell  him  of  it.  Now  she  must  tell  him 
that,  and  tell  him  she  could  not  leave  her  betrothed;  it  would 
embitter  his  whole  life,  and  her  conscience  would  never  cease 
to  torment  her.  "  Kai,  I  cannot  do  it.  ...  I  am  alone  in  the 
house  and  I  implore  you,  come  and  let  me  comfort  you  and  be 
strong;  I  cannot  bear  to  see  your  despair." 

Half  an  hour  later,  as  she  stood  with  beating  heart  by  the 
table  in  the  lower  room,  listening  to  every  step  that  passed  in 
the  street,  he  came. 

"  Kai,"  she  said,  stretching  her  hands  out  to  him  in  entreaty, 
"  I  could  not  have  acted  differently  .  .  .  to-day.  You  were  so 
happy,  you  carried  me  off  my  feet;  your  love  came  so  suddenly 
and  was  so  sweet.  Oh,  Kai,  forgive  me;  be  strong.  I  cannot, 
cannot  desert  him." 

Pale  as  death,  he  could  not  utter  a  word.  She  sank  down 
on  the  sofa  and  wept  bitterly,  her  arms  on  the  table  in  front 
of  her.  "  Oh,  poor,  dear  one.  I  cannot,  I  cannot.  Oh,  don't 
look  at  me  in  such  despair.  Oh,  what  misery  everywhere." 

He  sat  down  opposite  to  her  and  asked  her  in  a  voice  of  utter 
dejection  how  she  had  got  to  know  the  other,  how  long  they 
had  been  together,  what  their  relations  were,  and  so  forth. 
With  outstretched  arms  and  her  hands  folded  on  the  table,  the 
tears  streaming  from  her  eyes  as  she  looked  at  him,  she  an- 
swered each  of  his  questions  as  if  replying  to  a  judge. 

At  last  she  cried,  weeping  bitterly,  "  It  is  impossible  for  me 
to  leave  him;  I  should  ruin  his  life,  and  that  would  make  me 
miserable  too.  His  heart  is  mine,  wholly,  and  mine  his.  I 
love  you,  too,  very  much;  I  love  you  terribly  .  .  .  how  much 
I  did  not  know  .  .  .  but  I  must  conquer  it." 

"  That's  the  end,  then,"  said  he.  "  It  is  my  fate,  and  no 
one  can  contend  with  fate.  There  only  remains  the  question 
of  what  I  am  to  do  with  my  life." 

His  utter  wretchedness  appalled  her  and  she  cried  aloud, 
sinking  back  in  the  chair  and  stretching  out  her  hands  to  him. 
"  I  implore  you  to  be  strong.  I  love  you  so.  Oh,  Kai,  be  my 
dear  friend.  Kai,  some  day,  perhaps,  a  terrible  sorrow  will 
come  to  me  or  to  my  children.  .  .  .  Who  will  help  me  then? 
Oh,  dear  one,  do  not  turn  from  me  in  anger.  ...  I  cannot 
bear  it." 

He  bent  over  her  and  stroked  her  hair.     "  I  am  not  angry 


296  HOLYLAND 

with  you;  far,  far  from  that.  It  is  our  fate.  Be  not  afraid. 
I  am  a  man;  I  can  see  to  it  that  I  hold  my  head  upright.  I 
have  my  old  father  and  your  dear  friendship  still.  There  .  .  . 
there  .  .  .  don't  cry  so.  ...  Now  let  me  go." 

She  held  his  hands  fast,  weeping  sore.  "  I  will  think  all 
night  what  I  can  do  for  you;  all  my  life  I  will  try  to  find  a 
way  to  make  you  glad.  It  would  have  made  me  so  happy  to 
have  been  your  wife,  so  happy.  He  knows  of  you,  how  dear 
you  are  to  me,  how  good.  I  have  told  him  a  great  deal  about 
you,  and  I  shall  tell  my  children.  Kai,  have  pity  on  me;  be 
brave  and  do  not  ruin  my  life  and  his." 

He  looked  down  upon  her  and  stroked  her  lovely,  fair  hair 
again  and  again  without  saying  a  word,  with  eyes  that  seemed 
to  say  "How  strange  it  is;  how  sacred!"  Then  he  went 
away. 

He  went  home  to  the  little  blue  room  that  opened  from  the 
kitchen,  where  he  had  slept  since  he  was  a  child,  and  lay  long 
unconscious  on  his  bed,  without  stirring.  He  was  aroused  by 
what  seemed  to  be  the  sound  of  a  deep  voice,  saying  clearly, 
"  Did  you  think  you  could  tell  the  Saviour's  story  with  laugh- 
ter in  your  heart  ?  "  He  covered  his  face  with  his  hands  and 
wept. 

The  next  day  he  sent  her  a  brief  note,  in  which  he  begged 
her  not  to  come  to  him  for  the  present;  he  could  not  bear  to 
see  her.  After  finishing  his  work  he  should  go  away.  He  had 
heard  from  his  old  friend  that  he  was  sailing  for  Cape  Town 
at  the  end  of  the  month,  and  probably  he  would  accompany 
him.  He  shou!4  be  glad  to  have  an  opportunity  of  getting  to 
know  the  man  she  loved. 

A  week  later  Peter  Volquardsen  returned,  and,  having  heard 
everything  from  Heinke,  went  over  in  the  evening  and  talked 
things  over  with  Kai.  He  told  him  of  his  own  quiet,  peaceful 
childhood,  sheltered  by  the  care  of  wise  and  thoughtful  parents ; 
of  his  acquaintance  with  a  splendid  and  cultured  man,  who 
had  brought  into  his  life  the  purifying  influences  of  art.  All 
his  life  had  been  ordered  and  wisely  counselled.  His  mother 
had  taught  him  to  know  the  great  mysteries  of  life,  its  inner 
secrets;  his  father  and  his  elder  brothers  had  taught  him  the 
ways  of  the  world.  He  had  gone  through  life  as  through  a 
garden,  beautiful  in  its  unclouded  peace,  without  troubk  or 


HOLYLAND  297 

doubt,  guarded  to  the  right  and  the  left  by  the  fair  gifts  of 
art ;  and  one  day  he  had  come  on  his  way  upon  the  most  pre- 
cious tKing  of  all,  more  to  him  than  all  that  art  could  give  — 
Heinke  Boje.  He  related  all  this  with  shining  eyes  in  his 
clear,  straightforward  way;  at  the  end  he  took  Kai  Jans'  arm 
and  said,  "  I  know  that  your  life  has  been  different." 

Then  Kai  told  him  the  story  of  his  own  life;  in  a  quiet, 
emotionless  voice  he  told  him  his  earliest  recollection  was  that 
his  little  mother  had  no  money  in  the  house,  that  she  ured  to 
read  English  novels,  and  the  only  pictures  he  ever  saw  were 
Berlin  fashion  plates  and  the  hideous  paintings  in  church.  He 
described  the  day  when  his  eldest  sister  had  come  home  and 
knelt  before  her  mother  on  the  ground;  the  time  he  had  spent 
in  learning  from  Heine  Wulk  how  to  be  a  wind-bag;  then  his 
wretchedness  on  the  Clara  and  the  confused  experiences  on  the 
Gude  Wife,  when  his  hand  was  injured,  and  he  used  to  think 
constantly,  "You  are  no  use  for  anything;  jump  overboard." 
Then  came  the  grammar  school,  the  sensation  of  ill-fitting 
clothes  and  heavy  boots,  and  the  weariness  of  giving  lessons; 
the  feeling,  "  Your  father  is  a  strange,  vague  sort  of  man ;  " 
then  his  poverty-stricken  student  days.  Student  days!  when 
hungry  eyes  catch  stolen  glimpses  of  the  range  and  variety  of 
life;  when  one  strives  blindly  in  the  mighty  stream  of  existence 
and  the  only  pleasure  lies  in  friendships  with  young  men  in 
happier  circumstances  and  occasional  glances  from  a  girl's 
friendly  eyes. 

Then  with  manhood  came  the  time  of  gloomy,  puzzled 
brooding,  when  his  soul  seemed  oppressed  by  leaden  clouds 
that  weighed  upon  it,  when  all  round  was  anxious,  impenetra- 
ble darkness  and  for  long  no  light.  Then  at  last,  when  the 
darkness  became  hideous,  came  the  light!  ...  yes  ...  and 
with  the  light  came  knowledge  of  the  truth  and  beauty  by  his 
side.  He  had  known  her  from  a  child ;  he  had  a  claim ; 
at  least,  he  had  helped  her  soul  and  character  to  grow.  He 
thought  she  belonged  to  him  ...  oh,  how  dear,  how  beautiful 
she  is  ...  how  beautiful  and  dear! 

Thus  they  began,  each  speaking  of  himself;  then  they  turned 
to  wide  and  serious  problems,  and  it  soon  proved  that  there 
was  much  sympathy  in  spite  of  all  differences  in  temperament 
and  circumstances.  They  parted  with  the  feeling  that  they 
could  be  friends. 


298  HOLYLAND 

A  week  later  Heinke  herself  came,  in  spite  of  his  request. 
With  a  shy  gesture  of  unspeakable  tenderness  she  begged  him 
to  walk  a  little  way  with  her.  In  reply  to  her  question  he  told 
her  that  he  had  begun  his  description  of  the  life  of  Jesus,  and 
was  painfully  making  progress  with  it;  he  hoped  to  complete 
it  in  about  five  weeks. 

Soon  he  made  her  turn  back.  She  saw  that  he  spoke  with 
difficulty,  his  face  was  pale  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  path.  She 
asked  him  in  a  low,  trembling  voice,  "  Do  you  dislike  walking 
with  me?  " 

"  I  cannot  bear  it!  "  he  said  breathing  hard,  "  it  is  beyond 
my  power.  I  cannot  bear  to  see  your  face  and  the  movements 
of  your  dear  body;  it  is  too  much." 

"  Oh,"  she  moaned,  "  what  a  wretched  creature  I  am." 

"  It  will  be  different,"  he  said,  "  with  the  passage  of  time  — 
but  now,  I  beg  you,  do  not  come  again.  I  will  come  to  you 
once  before  I  go  away!" 

She  wept  aloud.  "  Oh,  I  wanted  you  so  much  to  go  on 
caring  for  me  until  we  both  grew  old  and  quiet;  then  we  could 
sit  side  by  side,  holding  each  other's  hand.  I  can't  bear  you  to 
be  strange  and  wrath  with  me." 

"  How  could  I  be  wrath  with  you?  "  he  said.  "  Have  you 
sinned  against  me?  You  are  love  and  truth  itself;  nothing  I 
possess  is  more  precious  than  your  friendship;  believe  me,  I 
shall  cherish  it.  But  now  I  must  go  away  and  stay  away,  until 
I  am  strong.  Go  now,  be  not  afraid  for  me." 

He  gave  her  his  hand  and  she  went,  weeping. 

For  six  weeks  he  worked  day  by  day  and  heard  nothing  from 
her.  But  every  day,  as  he  walked  along  the  dyke  about  four 
o'clock,  he  could  see,  looking  beyond  the  town  in  the  direction 
of  Volkmersdorf,  a  solitary  figure  standing.  He  stood  still, 
and  they  looked  across  at  one  another  without  daring  to  raise 
their  hands  in  greeting. 

One  lovely  evening  in  the  middle  of  October,  when  a  fresh, 
cold  autumn  breeze  was  blowing  and  the  golden  rays  of  the 
sinking  sun  tinged  the  last  leaves  of  the  chestnuts  with  vivid 
colour,  Heinke  Boje  came  home  from  Volkmersdorf  without 
having  seen  him.  She  went  into  her  room,  and  there,  on  her 
bed,  lay  a  letter,  in  which  he  said  farewell  to  her  in  a  few  ten- 
der words,  and  beside  it  a  fresh  manuscript,  with  the  super- 


HOLYLAND  299 

scription,  in  the  strong  well-formed  letters  that  she  loved  so 
well,  "  The  Life  of  the  Saviour,  presented  in  accordance  with 
the  results  of  German  research:  the  foundation  of  the  German 
Renascence." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THE   MANUSCRIPT 

MANKIND  has  risen  painfully  out  of  the  darkness  of  night. 
Its  rise  has  taken  many  hundred  thousand  years.  For  hundreds 
of  thousands  of  years  men  lived  like  foxes  in  a  land  without 
trees  or  forests.  Couching  fearfully  in  caves  in  wakeful  slum- 
ber, in  cunning  ambush  or  in  wild  attack,  their  existence  was 
that  of  the  animals,  and  they  had  no  consciousness  of  any  dif- 
ference between  them.  Gradually  in  the  course  of  thousands 
of  centuries  their  peculiar  qualities,  and  especially  the  shape  of 
their  hands,  raised  men  above  the  other  animals.  Gradually, 
with  many  doubts,  this  recognition  came  first  to  one  and  then 
another,  the  most  intelligent  and  bravest  of  the  race. 

It  took  thousands  of  centuries  before  it  was  recognised  by 
all  that  there  is  a  difference  between  men  and  animals.  And 
man  is  the  master.  But  the  darkness  and  confusion  of  the 
souls  of  animals  endured  for  long  ages  in  their  souls,  their  ter- 
rors were  the  terrors  of  animals;  they  feared  the  wind,  the 
reflections  of  water,  the  darkness  of  the  wood,  thunder  and 
lightning.  Everything  around  them  seemed  possessed  by  un- 
known spirits;  they  had  no  knowledge  of  good  and  evil;  the 
differentiation  of  being  afraid  from  not  being  afraid,  of 
strength  from  weakness,  of  victory  from  defeat,  exhausted  their 
categories. 

Wandering  in  hordes  and  tribes  from  the  centre  of  Asia, 
moving  and  propagating  themselves  like  sparrows,  growing 
continually,  one  horde  constantly  displacing  another,  they 
gradually  spread  over  the  whole  face  of  the  earth,  and  thus 
came  to  different  lands  and  different  climates.  Some  tribes 
came  beneath  the  exhausting  heat  of  the  burning  sun ;  others  to 
desolate  regions;  others  to  ice-bound  chill,  where  they  lost  their 
vitality,  succumbed,  or  were  frozen  out  of  existence.  Many  of 
these  tribes  and  peoples  perished  centuries  before  our  epoch; 

300 


HOLYLAND  301 

others  are  gradually  being  exterminated  in  our  own  times  in 
Australia,  America,  and  Africa;  others,  more  fortunate,  came 
to  regions  where  strength  and  progress  were  forced  upon  them 
by  the  pressure  of  vigorous  neighbours,  by  sun  and  wind  and 
sea,  by  barley  and  wine.  They  raised  their  heads  higher  and 
higher,  the  eyes  grew  brighter,  their  foreheads  more  lofty. 
Slowly  and  painfully  their  fear  of  Nature  died  away.  The 
bravest  among  them  went  boldly  into  the  darkness;  it  is  the 
bravest  child  of  a  company  of  terrified  children  alone  in  the 
house  that  ventures  into  the  dark  corner.  For  long  they  contin- 
ued in  fear  of  ghosts  and  tried  to  placate  them  by  prayers  and 
offerings;  very  gradually,  with  the  growth  of  man's  power  over 
Nature,  these  spirits  lost  their  terrors.  Evil  spirits  shrank 
back,  and  their  powers  dwindled,  with  the  slow  and  gradual 
growth  of  a  faint  belief  in  good  spirits.  There  arose  a  dim, 
uncertain  apprehension  that  right  was  not  with  the  strong,  but 
with  the  good.  The  inner  light  of  conscience  burned  up,  and 
as  its  rays  penetrated  the  mist  the  path  of  mankind  was  clearer ; 
they  had  a  guide,  they  could  not  wholly  lose  their  way,  they 
might  come  further  than  our  dreams  may  know. 

But  it  was  not  the  whole  people,  not  the  masses,  that  made 
a  universal  step  in  advance ;  the  light  only  shone  in  individuals. 
In  a  smooth  sea  the  waves  come  gently  swelling  on,  grey-blue, 
one  after  another,  far  out  to  sea,  till  lo,  all  of  a  sudden  one 
wave  rises  higher  than  the  others,  leaps  up,  and  comes  on  splen- 
did in  its  silver  crown  until  it  falls  over  its  own  feet.  These 
men,  the  solitary  crowned  among  mankind,  rise  like  that  wave 
and  fall  even  so,  over  their  own  feet. 

On  the  morning  of  the  race  the  steps  forward  were  slow  and 
tentative  —  we  do  not  know  the  earliest  names.  The  art  of 
writing  was  still  unknown,  and  it  is  only  after  its  discovery 
that  we  are  acquainted  with  the  names  of  those  holy  heroes. 
Persia  produced  Zarathustra;  China  Confucius;  India  Buddha; 
Palestine  Moses,  Elias,  Isaiah,  Jeremiah ;  Greece  /Eschylus  and 
Plato.  All  these  men  stood  alone  among:  their  people,  and  had 
to  suffer  for  having  advanced  beyond  their  age.  Even  in  them 
there  still  was  much  that  was  hard  and  dark,  wild  and  almost 
childishly  confused,  and  yet  in  their  hours  of  illumination  they 
rose  to  a  high  and  gracious  insight  which  the  human  spirit  can 
never  outgrow.  "  I  came  not  to  hate  but  to  love."  "  If  I  have 
thee,  O  God,  earth  and  heaven  to  me  are  naught." 


302  HOLYLAND 

After  the  passing  of  these  men  there  came  a  time  of  calm. 
The  universe  rises  and  falls  in  waves ;  the  exhausted  vital  force 
produced  no  more  heroes.  Each  nation  stood  in  rigid  silence, 
holding  its  inheritance  in  its  closed  hand,  and  while  mediocrity 
grew  the  grip  closed  fast  so  that  the  inheritance,  closed  in, 
began  to  putrefy.  This  inert  silence  lasted  for  centuries;  on 
the  ocean  of  national  life  no  wind  blew,  no  waves  rose;  putre- 
faction seemed  likely  to  spread  all  over  human  life. 

Then  the  sword  descended  on  the  peoples  living  round  the 
central  sea.  The  Romans,  a  people  vexed  by  no  subtleties, 
troubled  by  no  search  for  truth,  no  brooding  over  problems, 
but  devoted  to  the  practical  side  of  life,  the  calculation  of  ma- 
terial advantages,  subdued  all  other  nations  to  their  sway; 
everywhere  they  rent  and  disturbed,  tearing  asunder  the  old 
nations  of  sensitive  dreamers,  Egyptians,  Hebrews,  Greeks, 
Persians,  Germans. 

And  in  this  wild  confusion  of  dismembered  nations  there 
arose  a  horrible  conflict  of  opinion.  There  was  a  seething  tur- 
moil of  beliefs  like  the  turbulent  confluence  of  seven  waters  in 
the  stream;  men  went  and  asked  the  philosophers  for  their 
opinion ;  others  abandoned  themselves  to  the  unrestrained  trans- 
ports of  the  Greek  mystics,  crying,  "Nature!  Nature!  O 
man,  thou  art  no  more!  "  to  kneel  next  day  before  the  image 
of  an  Egyptian  goddess.  Some  raised  their  eyes  in  worship 
to  the  marble  statue  of  a  Roman  Emperor,  seeking  in  vain  for 
the  holiness  of  human  goodness  in  those  harsh  imperial  traits; 
the  men  who  went  on  Friday  to  hear  from  the  German  sol- 
diery how  they  worshipped  Baldur  and  Freya  under  the  beech 
trees  of  their  native  land,  stood  on  Saturday  with  covered  heads 
in  the  Jewish  Synagogue,  hearing  the  teacher  read  from  the 
ancient  book,  "  Keep  my  commandments.  So  shall  it  be  well 
with  thee." 

This  confusion  raged  all  round  the  Mediterranean;  from 
the  streets  of  Gibraltar  to  Persia  there  was  nothing  but  ques- 
tioning and  murmuring,  "What  is  the  meaning  of  human  life? 
What  is  the  meaning  of  God?  What  is  truth?  Do  you 
know  what  makes  a  human  heart  holy  and  joyous?"  Thus 
at  a  time  of  long  drought  country  folk  stand  in  groups  talking 
and  arguing  together.  '  The  rain  must  come  .  .  .  look  at 
that  cloud!  .  .  .  no,  it  is  nothing;"  then  suddenly  in  the 
night,  when  their  thoughts  are  far  away,  a  rustling  begins  to 


HOLYLAND  303 

sound  among  the  tree  tops  in  front  of  their  windows.  Thus 
men  waited  and  talked  and  strained  their  eyes.  Man  cannot 
help  searching  for  the  meaning  of  life,  searching  for  happiness. 
At  last  Nature's  time  of  rest  came  to  an  end.  Its  rising  and 
falling  is  like  the  rising  and  falling  of  the  waves,  and  now 
once  more  a  man  arose,  a  hero  in  the  mould  of  the  holy  heroes 
of  old,  and  from  the  east  the  rustling  sound  spread  over  the 
withered  nations,  till  it  became  a  mighty  roar. 

In  one  corner  of  the  huge,  motley  Empire  there  lay  a  coun- 
try very  much  like  Schleswig-Holstein,  of  the  same  size  and 
narrow  length  and  the  same  extended  coastline;  in  the  north 
the  silent  expanse  of  heather-covered  hills,  in  the  south  a  great 
and  brilliant  town  just  as  in  our  country.  As  in  our  country, 
also,  there  dwelt  there  in  the  villages  a  population  of  farmers, 
a  mixed  race  sprung  from  two  excellent  stocks.  It  was  an 
unhappy  people,  suffering  under  the  cruel  and  inefficient  gov- 
ernment of  a  corrupt  princeling  in  the  north,  and  an  imperial 
legate  in  the  south.  Foreign  capital  devoured  the  land  as  a 
wolf  the  sheep ;  the  people  were  drained  dry  with  direct  and 
indirect  taxation,  customs  dues,  and  monopolies;  officials  stole 
and  peculated  in  all  directions;  all  the  money,  and  money  is 
power,  was  taken  out  of  the  country. 

Then  there  was  the  Church,  with  its  extravagant  claims. 
In  the  great  capital  in  the  south  a  huge  temple  arose,  with  vast 
halls  and  courts,  lofty,  ornate  consistories,  thousands  of  priests, 
high  and  low,  and  many  teachers  attached  to  it,  who  spread 
its  tenets  through  the  land;  all  to  be  maintained  at  the  popu- 
lar expense. 

The  crowning  misfortune  was  that  the  people  was  divided 
against  itself;  there  was  a  seething  confusion  in  politics  and  in 
religion.  One  party  was  composed  of  the  quiet  people,  dwell- 
ing scattered  all  over  the  country,  especially  in  the  villages  and 
on  the  moors.  They  were  men  occupied  in  laborious  manual 
labour,  which  leaves  the  mind  free  to  wander  off  into  strange 
dreams  and  brooding  abstractions;  men  occupied  in  toil  for 
daily  bread  that  left  the  soul  free  to  raise  itself  to  God.  The 
Church  was  too  cold,  stiff,  and  respectable  for  them ;  they 
sought  out  some  eternal  truth  to  comfort  them  for  themselves, 
burying  themselves  after  the  day's  work  was  done  in  ancient 
records  and  prayer-books,  and  reading  there  in  joyful  amaze- 


304  HOLYLAND 

ment  how,  in  times  of  like  necessity,  centuries  ago,  their  parents 
had  not  lost  courage,  but  had  held  fast  to  the  belief  that  the 
eternal  did  not  cherish  the  proud  and  rich,  but  rather  the  lowly 
and  humble,  and  to  them  would  one  day  send  a  "  Saviour." 
Only  the  few  rose  to  such  heights  of  faith;  the  piety  of  the 
majority  was  a  dull,  uncomprehending  acceptance. 

The  second  party  was  the  Liberals,  and  they  fell  into  two 
well-defined  camps.  There  was  a  small,  highly  respectable 
Liberal  party  in  the  capital  composed  of  rich  men  who,  super- 
ficially educated,  enjoyed  the  present  and  were  hand  and  glove 
with  Church  and  State,  caring  little  for  abstract  principles; 
the  other  was  composed  of  men  of  an  inferior  social  grade, 
minor  officials  of  the  Empire  in  the  customs  and  police  de- 
partments, and  the  more  frivolous,  adventurous  sections  of  the 
working  classes,  the  energetic  men  of  aspiring  disposition. 

The  third  party  was  the  Nationalists,  by  far  the  most  pow- 
erful, the  party  of  narrow,  orthodox  patriotism.  Their  pro- 
gramme was  "  Maintenance  of  national  religion  and  customs 
in  opposition  to  everything  foreign."  "  Pray  seven  times  a  day, 
wash  seven  times  a  day,  give  alms  seven  times;  go  to  church 
daily;  alter  nothing,  improve  nothing;  this  is  the  way  to  please 
the  Almighty.  To  reward  us  He  will  send  us  a  hero,  a 
1  Saviour,'  who  will  free  us  from  the  accursed  foreign  beliefs." 
Clad  in  its  rotten  armour  this  mighty  party,  full  of  petty  and 
malign  suspiciousness,  stood  guard  over  what  it  considered 
"  purity "  and  "  holiness,"  inspected  all  the  prayer  meeting* 
and  schools  in  the  country,  ruling  the  people  with  tyrannical 
might.  The  Liberals  resisted,  saying,  "  Live  and  let  live ;  away 
with  dead  formulae  and  commandments ;  "  and  the  quiet  coun- 
try folk  resisted,  saying,  "  You  are  too  proud,  too  narrow,  too 
rigid  for  us ;  we  seek  God  after  our  own  fashion,  reading  in  our 
old,  sacred  books,  and  pondering  in  the  night-time.  We  have 
no  time  to  spend  all  day  in  praying  and  washing  and  going 
to  church;  we  have  our  bread  to  earn."  The  Nationalists  in- 
vented a  nickname  to  express  their  contempt  for  these  unpa- 
triotic people,  a  biting  gibe  that  hit  both  parties :  "  They  are 
publicans  and  sinners." 

Over  and  above  these  three  great  parties  there  were  swarms 
of  homeless  beggars,  tramps,  and  sick  folk.  There  were  no 
physicians,  no  asylums,  no  hospitals,  no  social  sympathy  of  any 
kind.  All  the  crime,  misery,  and  vagabondage  of  the  country 


HOLYLAND  305 

skulked  up  and  down  the  high  roads  or  the  village  lanes,  in 
front  of  the  very  doors  of  the  rich.  The  Nationalists  cast  out 
alms  as  the  creed  bade  them,  and  bred  more  beggars. 

Such  was  the  condition  of  this  nation  by  the  sea,  a  people 
miserable  and  torn  by  opposing  factions,  tyrannised  over  by  a 
harsh  and  grasping  Government  whose  faith  was  not  theirs. 

Forty  years  later  the  great  Nationalist  party,  summoning  to- 
gether its  forces  for  a  mighty  outbreak,  roused  the  whole 
people  to  an  ill-fated  insurrection  which  ended  in  bloody  anni- 
hilation. The  people  survived,  indeed,  but,  as  their  hero  said, 
like  a  flock  standing  in  the  night  without  a  shepherd,  round 
which  the  wild  beasts  are  already  sharpening  their  teeth  as  they 
cower  in  the  darkness.  Restless,  it  cried  aloud,  "  Help  must 
come  .  .  .  what  is  coming?  It  is  the  end  of  the  world!  Is 
it  the  hero  who  has  been  promised  us?  Laugh!  Let  us  eat, 
drink,  and  be  merry,  for  to-morrow  we  die.  .  .  .  Count  up  your 
resources.  .  .  .  Will  he  come  from  Heaven?  Will  he  come 
from  the  people?  .  .  .  Listen!  do  you  hear  a  rustling  in  the 
trees?  God,  our  Father,  Eternal  Power!  help.  .  .  .  My  soul 
thirsts  for  Thee,  my  body  faints  for  Thee  in  the  scorched  and 
parching  land." 

In  the  north,  on  the  moors  between  lake  and  sea,  there  dwelt 
a  man  and  his  wife,  Joseph  the  son  of  Jacob,  and  Mary,  both 
of  ancient  and  noble  though  mixed  descent.  The  man  seems 
either  to  have  died  rather  young  or  married  somewhat  late  in 
life.  His  wife  lived  to  see  her  children  grow  up.  This  brought 
her  no  distinction,  for  it  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  this  mother 
of  a  hero  seems  to  have  had  no  comprehension  of  the  inward 
greatness  of  her  son. 

The  couple  had  five  children,  who  grew  up  in  the  fair  vil- 
lage, seeing  and  learning  all  that  villaee  life  among  an  intelli- 
gent and  vigorous  race  can  afford.  The  first  child  of  the  mar- 
riage, Jesus  by  name,  had  a  pair  of  deep,  clear  eyes,  which  saw 
and  understood  all  the  peaceful  pictures  presented  to  them,  a 
tender  and  sympathetic  soul  whose  inner  light,  burning  clearer 
as  his  childhood  advanced,  translated  what  it  saw  into  some- 
thin  e  of  sweet  and  precious  significance. 

The  child  went  out  with  the  labourer  to  plough;  saw  his 
mother's  sadness  when  she  was  expecting  her  youngest  child, 
and  her  sudden  joy  when  she  held  the  new-born  babe  in  her 


306  HOLYLAND 

arms.  With  his  companions  he  went  up  into  the  hills  when 
the  first  flowers  appeared  in  the  fields;  they  stood  with  the 
flowers  they  had  picked  in  their  hands,  gazing  far  across  the 
land  to  the  blue  sea  in  the  west.  ...  In  the  evening  he  told 
his  mother  that  the  neighbour's  son  had  left  home  in  anger 
and  gone  out  into  strange  lands,  trouble  following  in  his  wan- 
ton footsteps.  He  saw  the  cornfield  on  the  hillside  as  it  lay, 
white,  ready  for  harvesting;  he  stood  at  the  door  with  the  other 
children  to  watch  the  wedding  of  a  village  maid.  In  the 
morning  he  told  his  mother  how  the  bridesmaids  had  gone 
through  the  village  at  night  with  blazing  candles  in  their 
hands.  .  .  .  He  helped  to  bind  the  sheaves,  and  the  thistles 
that  were  bound  up  in  them  pricked  his  hands;  in  the  evening 
of  the  same  day,  as  he  returned  home  with  his  father,  they 
heard  in  the  street  that  the  richest  farmer  in  the  village  had 
died,  and  the  people  declared  that  he  and  his  brothers  were  bad 
men,  and  misers  to  boot.  .  .  .  He  saw  the  shepherd  coming 
through  the  village  with  his  flocks,  and  as  the  sheep  went 
slowly  on  the  shepherd  stopped  to  relate  how  he  spent  all 
night  in  searching  for  a  sheep,  and  found  it  in  the  morning,  and 
his  weather-beaten  face  beamed  with  joy.  .  .  .  Late  in  the 
evening  of  the  same  day  a  neighbour  ran  in  to  tell  them  that 
the  farmer's  wanton  son,  who  three  years  ago  had  left  his 
father's  house  and  the  village  with  proud  words  and  headstrong 
anger,  had  returned  home.  He  had  stood  for  hours  in  the 
street  in  the  darkness,  looking  at  the  lights  in  his  father's  house, 
clad  in  rags.  "  In  such  rags!  And  now,  what  do  you  think 
.  .  .  just  listen!"  And  they  heard  the  sound  of  singing  and 
jubilation  in  the  village,  so  great  was  the  parents'  joy  at  his  re- 
covery. The  child  got  up  and  went  out  to  the  door  to  listen 
to  the  singing. 

The  town  child?  what  does  the  town  child  know  of  the 
world,  of  Nature,  of  human  life?  Only  a  wretched,  ugly 
little  corner.  The  village  child  sees  in  miniature  the  whole 
world  and  all  that  in  it  is. 

He  was  a  shy,  thoughtful  child ;  he  stood  aside  and  looked 
on  at  life  with  quiet,  wondering  eyes.  He  played  with  the 
other  children,  but  it  often  happened  that  almost  involuntarily 
he  would  step  aside  from  the  gay  throng  as  if  some  invisible 
voice  had  said  earnestly  to  him,  "  Stand  aside  a  little." 

The  child's  eyes  became  quieter  and  quieter;  veil  after  veil 


HOLYLAND  307 

sank  down  over  them;  but  in  his  soul  there  was  no  darkness; 
the  more  the  outer  world  faded  away  there  burned  up  in  his 
soul  a  still,  bright  light  that  filled  it  wondrously  with  its  glow- 
ing purity  and  gracious  warmth.  Happy,  sad,  the  childish  soul 
stood  in  the  holy  hall,  before  the  lofty  doors  that  soon  would 
open,  and  "  now  —  now  —  soon  I  shall  see  the  radiance  of 
Heaven."  Then  the  children  came  and  waked  him,  saying  to 
one  another,  "  Jesus  is  dreaming  again ;  look,  he  is  lost  in 
dreams."  He  came  back  to  the  others,  his  eyes  still  misty  with 
the  sweet  remembrance,  his  face  bearing  the  traces  of  a  gentle 
sadness. 

Every  Sunday  as  boy  and  youth  he  stood  among  the  other 
villagers  in  the  village  school  and  meeting-room,  to  listen  to  an 
earnest  teacher,  who  read  with  slow  solemnity  from  the  old 
chronicles  and  psalms;  a  Nationalist  and  clerical,  he  read  out 
God's  many  commandments  with  brows  sternly  knit,  "  Thou 
shalt  .  .  .  Thou  shalt  ...  If  thou  dost  so-and-so,  thou  shalt 
please  God.  .  .  ." 

The  boy  listened  in  shy  bewilderment.  .  .  .  Then  the 
teacher  laid  aside  the  book  and  took  up  another,  and  the  voice 
of  the  gloomy,  serious  man  warmed  and  his  eyes  burned  as  he 
read  of  the  heroes  who  had  arisen  of  old  among  the  people  as 
the  birds  rise  out  of  the  heather;  how  they  brooded  alone, 
searching  for  an  answer  to  the  weary  riddle  of  human  life,  the 
riddle  of  birth  and  death,  God  and  conscience,  guilt  and  justice, 
seeking  a  way  by  which  a  tender  human  soul  might  win  its  way 
through  life  without  sorrow  or  punishment.  Some  of  these 
brooding  heroes  did  force  a  way  through  night  and  terror,  but 
not  by  their  own  unaided  strength.  Children  run  fearfully 
through  the  darkness,  terrified,  with  such  beating  hearts, 
till  at  last  they  find  themselves  in  their  mother's  outstretched 
arms,  where  for  a  while  they  sob  stormily,  terrified  by  their 
own  daring,  till,  their  terror  subsiding,  they  laugh  again.  Like 
them,  these  heroes  rushed  in  blind  and  eager  confidence  on  their 
adventurous  search  for  truth  and  faith  to  the  feet  of  the  Eter- 
nal Reality,  and  there  cried,  "  Eternal  Reality,  we  believe  that 
Thou  art  goodness."  From  this  glorious  citadel  they  speak 
to  their  people  with  a  glowing  courage  shining  in  their  eyes, 
tell  them  of  the  misery  of  godlessness,  of  the  great  goodness 
of  God,  of  the  glorious  hope  of  wondrous  help  from  God,  and 
of  the  Saviour  who  was  to  come  to  purify  and  bless  the  land. 


308  HOLYLAND 

As  the  boy  listened  to  these  stories  of  the  holy  heroes  his  pure 
young  heart  swelled  with  a  secret  and  lofty  joy.  "  Thou 
shalt  .  .  ."  was  forgotten;  fear  was  fled;  far  into  the  night 
he  beheld  in  dreams  the  brave  and  holy  heroes,  with  their  pas- 
sionate belief  in  the  goodness  of  God,  their  passionate  love  for 
their  unhappy  people,  and  the  Saviour  to  come,  the  bravest  and 
purest  of  them  all:  till  he  fell  asleep,  his  cheeks  glowing  with 
happiness. 

There  were  in  the  village  a  number  of  upright,  unlettered 
families  who  belonged  to  the  quiet  country  party,  and  probably 
his  parents  were  among  them.  His  tender  spirit  drank  in  the 
ancient  beliefs,  the  ancient  dreams  that  he  heard  his  parents 
and  their  neighbours  discussing.  They  spoke  of  God,  who 
dwelt  above  in  the  blue  realms  of  Heaven  surrounded  by  good 
angels ;  of  the  devil,  banished  to  the  remotest  corner  behind  the 
heavy  grey  clouds  on  the  northern  verge  of  the  sky,  with  his 
company  of  bad  angels.  Mortal  destiny  depends  on  the  fortune 
of  the  war  raging  day  and  night  between  God  and  His  satel- 
lites and  the  devil  and  his;  all  sickness  and  madness  comes  from 
the  evil  spirits ;  how  they  plague  the  sick  people  in  the  village ! 
Seven  spirits  or  angels  sent  by  the  devil  lodge  within  the 
maniac  living  at  the  far  end  of  the  village  with  his  parents; 
it  is  they  who  make  him  utter  the  shrieks  that  resound  through 
the  streets.  A  time  will  come  when  all  this  shall  be  changed ; 
some  day  there  will  be  an  end  of  all  sorrow  and  trouble 
caused  by  strangers  and  by  evil  spirits.  The  Saviour  will  come 
—  the  greatest  of  all  the  holy  heroes.  Some  say  he  is  to  be  an 
angel  and  fall  down  from  Heaven;  others  he  is  to  be  a  man 
descended  from  some  ancient,  impoverished  royal  house.  With 
the  help  of  God  he  will  set  up  the  rule  of  God  upon  earth  all 
over  the  land,  from  the  moor  villages  of  the  north  to  the  cap- 
ital in  the  south.  Then  the  people  will  be  free  and  holy  and 
happy. 

Thus  the  boy  heard  all  the  beliefs  held  by  the  Church  and 
among  the  people  in  this  time  of  trouble  and  disquiet.  And 
he  criticised  them  all,  yet,  till  the  day  of  his  death,  he  never 
despised  or  cast  away  a  single  belief  or  superstition.  Like  his 
people  and  his  times,  he  lived  in  a  world  of  wonders.  For  him, 
too,  angels  descended  from  Heaven  all  his  life  long.  He  saw 
the  devil  fall  like  a  flash  of  lightning;  he  believed  that  Satanic 
emissaries  possessed  the  insane  and  the  diseased.  He  believed 


HOLYLAND  309 

that  with  the  help  of  God  or  of  the  devil,  man  could  perform 
superhuman  actions;  the  dead  could  rise  from  the  earth  and 
walk. 

But  there  was  a  trait  of  greatness  in  this  growing  son  of 
man,  a  gift  that  marked  him  out,  and  this  it  was.  He  com- 
prehended in  the  music  of  his  nature  all  the  notes  sounded  by 
the  words  of  people  and  by  the  ancient  books,  but  one  supreme 
note  rose  in  him,  sounding  clearer,  stronger  year  by  year,  sound- 
ing pure  and  strong  and  penetrating  above  all  other  notes,  dom- 
inating and  subduing  all  other  notes  —  the  note  that  had  ceased 
to  sound  among  his  people  in  his  time,  the  note  that  had  not 
yet  been  struck  by  other  nations,  the  note  which  the  holy  heroes 
of  old  had  comprehended  and  to  which  they  had  responded, 
"  Let  me  rejoice  in  Thy  grace  that  Thou  hast  seen  my  tribula- 
tion and  hast  troubled  Thyself  for  the  need  of  my  soul." 

His  real  heroism  lay  in  this,  that  in  a  time  of  dull  acquies- 
cence, of  sordid  ideals,  and  confused  aims,  he  had  held  up  a 
high  and  lofty  belief  in  the  goodness  of  God,  and  died  for  this 
belief  in  the  freshness  of  his  youth.  .  .  . 

As  yet,  however,  he  is  only  a  boy,  a  youth,  uncertain  of  him- 
self, cherishing  in  wondering  doubt  and  bewilderment  his  pro- 
found and  marvellous  thoughts. 

Then  came  early  youth.  He  learned  a  craft  in  the  village. 
He  became  a  carpenter  and  left  the  village.  Wandering 
through  the  valley,  down  the  dry  river-bed,  he  saw  the  ruins 
of  the  house  which  had  been  torn  up  by  the  last  earthquake; 
then,  reaching  the  sea-beach,  he  saw  the  pearl-fishers'  boats 
dancing  on  the  surge,  while  the  merchant  stood  on  the  bank 
with  his  purse  to  see  what  they  had  caught.  He  passed  through 
the  poverty-stricken  moorland  villages  to  the  inland  lake; 
standing  before  the  castle  that  the  evil  princeling  had  built,  he 
heard  the  complaints  of  the  unhappy  people  of  his  cruelty  and 
of  his  ruling  vice ;  he  saw  the  countless  numbers  of  the  homeless 
poor,  the  sick  and  the  insane  lying  in  the  streets,  crowds  of 
soldiers  and  officials  railing  against  them  at  the  street  corners. 
He  took  a  three  days'  journey  with  some  of  the  villagers  down 
the  huge  temple  in  the  capital.  There,  in  the  midst  of  the 
hungry  misery  of  the  people,  he  saw  respectable  Liberals, 
princes  of  the  Church,  going  in  their  silken  raiment  to  a  rich 
banquet  given  by  the  foreign  governor.  At  the  street  corners 
stood  the  Nationalists  in  grave  mourning  garments.  The  peo- 


310  HOLYLAND 

pie  followed  blindly,  filling  the  churches,  gabbling  the  prayers, 
giving  the  rich  priests  their  poor  savings. 

On  their  way  home  the  peasants  discussed  whether  the  Na- 
tionalists were  right  in  saying  that  the  stipulated  gifts  must  be 
made  to  the  priests,  even  though  one's  own  aged  parents  per- 
ished of  starvation,  for  God  and  His  commandments  come  be- 
fore filial  love;  whether  it  were  really  God's  will  that  one 
should  not  move  a  finger  on  the  Sabbath,  even  to  help  man  or 
beast  in  trouble.  Could  God  be  so  petty  and  so  jealous?  They 
pondered  deeply  over  this  as  they  went  their  way,  till  suddenly 
one  of  the  quietists  struck  up  an  old  song  in  a  quivering  voice, 
"  To  Thee  I  raise  my  eyes,  Thou  throned  in  Heaven ;  behold, 
as  the  eyes  of  a  servant  are  directed  to  the  hand  of  the  Master, 
our  eyes  look  up  to  God,  till  such  time  as  He  has  mercy  upon 
us." 

He  returned  to  the  village  in  silence.  In  the  home  of  his 
parents  he  dwelt  quietly,  busy  with  his  craft,  building  and  re- 
pairing houses  in  the  village.  His  eager  eyes  regarded  his  craft 
and  all  that  Nature  and  life  presented  to  him,  but  they  did  not 
stay,  caught  like  fish  in  a  net,  but,  penetrating  like  the  rays  of 
the  sun  through  all  appearances,  reached  their  inner  cause,  the 
secret  and  eternal  power  behind  them.  He  found  joy  in  the 
waving  field  of  wheat,  in  the  lily  blossoming  on  the  pond,  in 
the  young  girl  standing  at  the  door;  but  he  left  them,  with  no 
thought  of  touching  or  gathering  them.  All  phenomena  were 
to  him  merely  a  symbol  of  the  eternal  power  that  lay  behind 
them,  dark  and  obscure.  "  Thou  art  all  goodness  and  love. 
If  only  all  men  could  share  my  belief,  my  happiness!  Eternal 
Power,  what  am  I?  what  are  my  thoughts?  Send  soon  the 
holy  Saviour.  Great  is  the  need  of  mv  people." 

The  people  in  the  village  said,  "  He  is  a  strange  man,  full 
of  profound  wisdom,  of  holy  earnestness,  as  innocent  as  a  babe 
at  the  breast."  They  saw  and  knew  no  more.  They  did  not 
guess  that  behind  those  pure  and  limpid  eves  lav  a  soul  that 
grew  every  day  in  depth  and  insight.  He  himsplf  knew  it  not. 
He  was  a  poor,  restless  son  of  man,  now  thrilling  with  joy, 
again  with  unspeakable  fears,  shaken  by  godlike  thoughts,  a 
genius  in  being. 

Time  passed  on  ...  he  reached  his  thirtieth  year.  People 
in  the  village  would  ask  his  advice  in  difficult  matters,  but  he 
only  cast  his  eyes  down,  deep  in  thought;  answering  came 


HOLYLAND  311 

hardly  to  him.  A  few  wise,  patient  men  in  the  village  think 
and  say,  "  What  will  become  of  him?  Let  him  be!  only  wait; 
some  day  he  will  soar  aloft  like  the  eagle."  Others  shake  their 
heads  and  say,  "  What  is  he?  A  queer  creature,  that's  all." 

His  hour  is  not  yet  come;  soul  and  spirit  are  not  yet  clear. 
God  is  still  forging  and  hammering.  Of  the  old  heroes  it  was 
said,  "  I  make  thee  to  be  a  pillar  of  iron  and  a  wall  of  brass 
against  the  whole  land,  against  its  Government,  against  its 
Church,  against  the  whole  population ;  "  for  he  must  be  hard, 
must  indeed  be  of  iron,  who  is  to  stand  alone  against  the  whole 
people. 

The  whole  land  was  oppressed  and  restless,  a  heavy  burden 
lay  upon  their  souls,  they  were  bound  down  to  poverty  and 
madness.  Leaden  clouds  stretched  from  the  sea  to  the  lake, 
from  the  heather  hills  of  the  north  to  the  great  town  of  the 
south.  Once,  twice,  the  flame  sprang  high  in  the  woods  or  on 
the  moors.  Some  eager,  desperate  spirit  appeared.  "  I  ...  I 
am  the  Saviour!  Arise,  my  people,  arise!  "  The  Government 
stamped  the  fire  out  with  fierce  imprecations,  then  drew  their 
breath  hard.  "  When  will  help  come  to  the  parching  land  ? 
Now,  or  never.  Go  out,  child,  see  whether  the  storm  is 
rising." 

"  There   is   nothing,    father." 

Then  the  first  peal  of  heavy  thunder  broke  over  the  land. 

In  the  south,  not  far  from  the  capital,  a  man  arose,  a  man 
like  one  of  the  old,  holy  heroes  sprung  from  the  despairing 
people.  He  stood  and  spoke.  What  he  spoke  was  half-despair, 
half-laughing  gladness. 

"  People !  people !  hear  what  I  say.  Have  we  reached  the 
end  of  life  and  of  every  hope?  Does  our  need  reach  up  to  our 
throats?  Then  —  you  know  how  the  old  books  run,  'From 
an  old  decaying  royal  stem  shall  shoot  out  a  young  branch.' 
Come  he  must  ...  he  comes!  Look!  He  is  quite  near.  He 
comes!  a  man  of  wondrous  powers,  the  power  of  God  within 
him !  the  angels  of  God  on  his  right  hand  and  on  his  left.  He 
will  harry  and  slay  the  oppressors  and  carry  terror  among  the 
people.  The  Nationalists,  with  their  self-satisfied  piety;  the 
Liberals,  smooth  and  silky,  who  sit  in  church  and  at  the  court; 
all  the  lying  hypocrites  who  live  in  luxury  and  care  nothing 
for  the  wretchedness  of  the  people,  who  lay  heavy  burdens  on 


312  HOLYLAND 

the  people  as  if  such  were  the  commandments  of  God,  while 
they  themselves  do  not  stir  a  finger;  they  load  their  country's 
land  with  debt,  devour  its  houses,  and  pray  all  the  time  with- 
out ceasing;  all  these  people  are  an  abomination  to  the  Lord 
and  to  His  Messenger.  He  will  destroy  them  all.  And  when 
He  has  done  all  this,  when  He  has  driven  forth  the  enemy  and 
slain  those  who  ruin  the  people,  then  the  others,  the  oppressed, 
the  quiet  people  of  the  country,  shall  dwell  in  peace  and  hap- 
piness in  a  land  purified  and  free,  He  their  glorious  King, 
they  His  free  and  gladsome  people.  .  .  .  Where  are  ye,  ye  poor 
and  pure  in  heart?  How  few  ye  are,  my  people!  Hark!  He 
comes!  Purify  your  souls!  Away  with  all  evil  from  heart  and 
life!  Hark!  the  steps  of  the  Son  of  God !  " 

So  he  spoke  in  broken  words,  spoke  to  a  despairing  people. 
So  the  alarums  ring  out  before  the  break  of  day  over  the  army 
lying  in  uneasy  sleep  on  the  battlefield  opposite  the  foe.  The 
whole  people  heard  his  voice. 

The  Liberals  laughed.  "Live  and  let  live!"  The  proud 
Church  party  stared.  "What?  the  Saviour  is  to  come  as  our 
enemy?  What  a  fool  the  man  is!"  All  the  quiet,  unhappy 
people  in  the  land  leapt  up.  "  What  a  note  is  that !  What 
does  he  say?  Misery  at  an  end?"  and  they  went  to  him  in 
crowds.  And  the  clear  note  penetrated  to  the  silent  depths  of 
that  divinely  quickened  soul  dwelling  in  the  quiet  northern 
village,  to  Jesus  the  carpenter.  "What  does  he  say?  The 
piety  which  the  Church  teaches  is  false?  God  wants  pure,  holy 
men.  .  .  .  Yes,  these  are  they  whom  He  wants." 

At  night  in  autumn  a  storm  rises  in  the  western  sea,  comes 
over  to  land  with  a  roar,  expends  its  first  headlong  onset  in 
vain  against  the  high,  thick  beeches  round  the  woodland  pond. 
Foiled,  it  pauses  for  a  moment,  to  dash  with  concentrated  force 
against  the  stubborn  resistance  of  the  trees;  as  they  crash  to 
the  ground  it  throws  itself  upon  the  pool,  lashing  and  tortur- 
ing it.  Such  a  storm  now  arose  in  the  depths  of  his  silent 
soul.  "What  does  he  say?  the  long-promised  Saviour  is  com- 
ing now?  now?  now  the  great  wonder  is  to  be?  the  people  is 
to  be  free  and  happy!  now?  yes,  now!  Our  need  is  at  our 
throats.  Yes,  he  is  coming  now.  I  will  go  and  see  the 
man." 

And  so  the  quiet  young  master  laid  aside  hammer  and  meas- 
ure. As  he  went  the  Eternal  Power  glowed  and  worked 


HOLYLAND  313 

within  him.  "  The  Saviour  is  coming.  .  .  .  What  does  he 
look  like?  What  will  he  be  like?  God  and  the  spirits  of 
goodwill  work  powerfully  within  him." 

When  he  reached  his  destination  on  the  evening  of  the  sec- 
ond day  he  found  crowds  gathered  together  from  all  directions, 
from  west  and  east,  from  the  great  town  in  the  south  and  the 
moors  in  the  north.  An  ill-treated,  confused,  and  despairing 
people,  betrayed  and  cheated  by  King  and  Church.  They  looked 
up  to  the  one  strong  man  who  spoke  to  them  of  the  downfall 
of  the  King  and  of  the  rich  and  of  the  pious  Church  party, 
and  foretold  the  time  of  bliss  at  hand  for  all  who  were  free 
from  sin.  "  The  Saviour,  the  Messenger  from  God  is  at  hand ; 
in  one  hand  he  holds  death,  in  the  other  a  happy  life  in  a  free 
land."  Thousands  came  to  him,  and,  kneeling  down  in  the 
stream  that  flowed  in  its  bed  of  white  sand  down  into  the  val- 
ley, vowed,  with  his  hands  upon  their  heads,  "  Our  souls  shall 
be  as  pure  as  the  water,  as  clean  as  the  white  sand,  so  that  we 
may  dwell  in  a  pure  and  happy  land  under  the  holy  hero,  we 
who  now  are  meek,  lowly,  and  oppressed." 

This  sight,  this  supreme  moment,  made  a  deep  impression 
on  the  northern  peasant ;  his  soul,  freed  from  the  dangers  which 
has  beset  it  among  the  silent  moors,  of  distraction  by  visionary 
dreaming  or  restless  wandering  from  its  true  course,  was  roused 
at  once  to  insight  and  to  action.  "  What  does  he  say?  .  .  .  Pure 
men  are  to  live  in  a  pure  land?  How  can  a  man  become  pure? 
He  does  not  know.  No  one  knows.  Do  I  know?  .  .  .  Do  I 
know?  .  .  .  The  pure  life?  Yes.  I  can  point  the  way  .  .  . 
have  I  not  borne  that  knowledge  in  my  soul  since  I  was  a 
child?  Have  I  not  always  seen  Thee,  holy  and  everlasting 
power,  as  Fatherly  love?  I  have  been  Thy  child  since  I  could 
think  at  all;  Thy  child,  loving,  pure,  beloved.  In  communion 
with  Thee  all  sin  is  wiped  away.  The  kingdom  of  Heaven  is 
at  hand.  Happiness  is  at  hand  for  my  poor  people.  Yes,  it 
is  at  hand  .  .  .  now  it  must  come.  Help,  O  Father,  that  Thy 
Kingdom  come!  Bring  all  Thy  people  to  Thy  knees  pure  and 
happy  as  I  am!  Father,  what  am  I  to  do?  where  is  the  Sa- 
viour? Father,  who  is  he?  Father,  show  him  to  me.  .  .  . 
Father,  who  is  he?" 

Overcome  by  the  waves  of  thought  and  feeling  that  surged 
through  his  soul,  he  knelt  down  in  the  white  sand  among  the 
others,  seeming  in  that  action  utterly  to  abrogate  his  will  and 


314  HOLYLAND 

to  hand  over  his  whole  being  in  passionate  self-surrender  into 
the  hands  of  the  sacred  and  everlasting  Power  above  him.  "  I 
am  Thine,  my  will  is  Thine;  my  Father,  who  art  goodness  and 
truth.  .  .  ."  and  in  a  moment  of  wrapt  and  wholly  blissful 
ecstasy  he  seemed  to  feel  and  to  hear  that  the  Eternal  Power, 
his  "  Father  in  Heaven,"  accepted  this  passionate  surrender  of 
his  pure  will.  "  Thou  art  my  beloved  son,  in  whom  I  am  well 
pleased." 

He  arose  and  stepped  back.  That  night  he  stayed  in  the 
district;  in  the  new  and  rapturous  illumination  of  joyous 
thoughts  and  sublime  presentiments  he  understood  clearly  the 
vague  misery,  the  singing  joy  of  his  childhood.  "I  am  a 
prophet,  a  herald  of  eternal  truth  like  the  holy  heroes  of  old! 
A  messenger  from  God.  Happiness  is  coming  to  my  poor  peo- 
ple: the  Kingdom  of  Heaven!  it  is  at  hand.  I  announce  it, 
I  His  messenger!  the  last  of  His  messengers,  the  Saviour?" 

Next  morning  he  set  out  northwards.  For  two,  three, 
hours  he  walked  till  his  homeward  way  brought  him  into  a 
lonely  and  desolate  region.  Here  the  lofty  feelings  that  had 
surged  up  in  him  sank,  and  as  he  wandered  over  the  barren 
moor  his  heart  became  heavier  and  heavier  at  every  step.  At 
last  he  stood  still,  brooding.  "  When  I  reach  home  to-morrow 
evening,  I,  who  have  always  been  so  shy  and  silent,  must  stand 
up  and  say :  '  Purify  your  hearts,  purify  your  lives ;  the  King- 
dom of  Heaven  is  at  hand.  .  .  .'  They  are  all  expecting  a 
holy  hero  who  shall  free  us  with  sword  and  word  from  the 
foreign  yoke.  'Out  with  your  .swords!  '  That  I  cannot  do. 
God's  voice  has  never  said  that  to  me.  Or  can  I?  I  am  the 
wisest  in  the  land ;  I  have  power  over  men ;  shall  I  announce 
what  will  please  them?  Shall  I  alter  a  little  what  God  says 
within  me?  What  I  have  to  say  to  them  is  too  lofty,  too 
sacred.  .  .  .  The  quiet,  yes;  but  my  mother;  my  brothers;  all 
the  rich  men  of  the  village!  The  Nationalists  and  the  Prince! 
The  first  will  be  suspicious;  the  second  will  threaten;  and  the 
Prince  will  have  me  put  in  prison.  ...  So  I  must  alter  it  a 
little;  I  must  alter  it.  I  will  clothe  myself  in  gorgeous  rai- 
ment, miracles,  and  splendid  deeds,  and  then  say,  '  I  am  the 
Saviour !  Sword  in  hand ! '  and  then  the  people  will  rally 
round  me.  .  .  .  No,  no,  you  spirits  of  evil  .  .  .  avaunt,  mes- 
sengers of  Satan.  ...  I  will  listen  to  God  alone." 

The  day  passed  and  night  descended;  he  cowered  at  the 


HOLYLAND  315 

edge  of  the  cliff,  a  poor,  lonely  man,  tortured  by  hideous  doubt, 
a  man  in  the  bitterest  extremity  of  need. 

He  prays,  and  strength  comes  to  him  for  a  moment;  but 
again  his  courage  sinks ;  he  prays  again,  begging  his  "  Father 
in  Heaven  "  to  give  him  strength  and  light.  He  begs,  "  Show 
me  the  truth.  Tell  me,  shall  I  help  my  people  with  Thy 
sword  and  Thy  word,  or  with  Thy  word  alone?  "  All  night 
his  soul  sought  for  a  way  of  escape  like  a  caged  wild  beast 
that  ramps  restlessly  up  and  down,  glaring  in  vain  at  the  bars 
through  which  he  cannot  pass. 

Later  he  told  his  friends,  and  they  believed  what  had  become 
a  part  of  the  popular  faith  that  Satan,  the  ruler  of  the  evil 
spirits,  appearing  from  the  darkest  quarter  of  Heaven,  stood 
by  his  side  and  said  to  him,  "  Add  something  of  earth  to  the 
pure  work  of  God." 

His  fear  of  others,  his  vanity,  all  his  sensual  desires  fought 
with  a  strong  man's  strength  against  that  stronger  part  of  him 
that  was  pure  and  holy.  All  day  the  struggle  lasted.  At  times 
he  turned  to  go  northwards,  and  then,  shrinking  back,  he 
turned  again  on  to  the  moor.  Often  he  was  in  great  danger 
of  betraying  his  Father  in  Heaven  and  returning  home  the 
same  quiet  craftsman  that  he  had  left  it,  save  that  his  soul  was 
rent  asunder  and  his  inner  life  desolated  by  the  reproachful 
voice  of  conscience.  Often  he  came  near  to  adding  something 
of  earth,  "  Out  with  your  swords!  I  am  the  holy  leader  whom 
God  has  promised  you."  The  whole  future  of  humanity  de- 
pended on  the  purity  of  soul,  the  courage,  and  the  truth  of  a 
single  man. 

But  he  was  very  brave.  He  was  so  stainless,  so  pure.  He 
thought  of  the  rapture  of  the  momentary  communion  of  his 
soul  with  God.  In  passionate  prayer  he  clung  to  the  knees  of 
his  Father  in  Heaven ;  and  He  helped  him.  Certainly  the  Eter- 
nal was  by  his  side.  Yet  the  work  was  his  own ;  it  is  him  we 
must  thank.  Jesus,  the  northern  carpenter ;  it  is  He  who  helped 
mankind.  At  last  he  arose  victorious.  "  I  will  do  Thy  work 
and  Thine  alone,  without  the  sword,  without  any  earthly  help. 
I  will  believe  and  not  doubt;  Thy  blessed  kingdom  is  at  hand, 
and  I  must  raise  it  without  the  help  of  the  sword.  I  leave  it 
to  Thee  to  show  me  in  Thy  own  good  time  whether  I  am  in- 
deed the  Saviour.  Help  me,  O  Father  in  Heaven." 

Then,  he  said,  he  was  made  strong.     Angels  from  Heaven 


316  HOLYLAND 

stood  round  him,  and  fear  was  gone  from  him.  Drawing  a 
long,  deep  breath,  he  went  northwards  with  no  more  doubt  in 
his  heart.  His  will  was  now  at  rest,  desiring  only  to  do  the 
pure  and  gracious  will  of  God.  "  I  will  do  Thy  will,  an- 
nounce the  coming  of  Thy  kingdom  and  Thy  rule  in  my  coun- 
try, troubling  myself  not  at  all  about  other  men."  He  went 
north. 

The  report  followed  him,  "  The  Baptist  has  been  put  in 
prison  by  the  duke;  he  is  to  die  at  the  hangman's  hand."  But 
all  fear  was  gone  from  him.  He  stands  there  pure  and  free, 
in  his  hands  the  purest  task  in  the  world,  close  to  the  Eternal 
Power,  close  to  his  "  Father  in  Heaven." 

In  two  days  he  reached  his  native  district.  Avoiding  his 
own  village  he  made  his  first  appearance  as  a  preacher  in  a 
village  that  lay  to  the  east  of  it.  He  rose  without  any  doubt 
or  any  fear,  his  eyes  shining  with  joy  and  the  authority  of  the 
Eternal,  which  said  to  him,  "Arise!  speak!  Thou  art  My 
dear  son.  Speak!  It  is  My  will  that  thou  sayest  what  thou 
sayest  and  dost  what  thou  dost." 

The  eagle  now  began  to  fly.  He  arose,  and  for  the  first 
time  went  up  to  the  desk  and  opened  the  ancient  chronicle; 
and  as  they  looked  at  him  they  saw  this  was  no  dry  teacher, 
but  a  man  whose  deepest  soul  was  stirred  and  possessed  by  the 
spirit  of  God.  He  read  the  place  where  it  is  written:  "The 
spirit  of  the  Lord  is  upon  me.  Because  he  anointed  me  to 
preach  good  tidings  to  the  poor;  He  hath  sent  me  to  proclaim 
release  to  the  captives,  and  recovering  of  sight  to  the  blind,  to 
set  at  liberty  them  that  are  bruised,  to  proclaim  the  acceptable 
year  of  the  Lord." 

Laying  the  book  down  he  drew  a  deep  breath,  and  said, 
"  The  ancient  scripture  is  being  fulfilled  now,  now.  Poor, 
oppressed  people,  the  promised  time  of  happiness  is  come;  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven  is  beginning  among  us.  Give  yourselves 
to  Him  and  be  His  children,  and  all  the  shadows  that  weigh 
on  human  life  will  disappear,  all  of  them ;  evil  conscience,  sor- 
row, death  itself.  In  the  light  of  happiness  human  life  will  be 
as  resplendent  as  the  halls  of  God.  Give  yourselves  to  Him!  be 
His  children !  The  kingdom  of  Heaven  is  at  hand,  the  blessed 
time  of  which  the  prophets  spake  is  at  hand.  Listen,  believe 
my  words,  and  rejoice." 


HOLYLAND  317 

So  he  spake,  and  the  poor,  the  trembling,  the  oppressed,  mar- 
velled and  rejoiced.  He  went  on  his  way  from  place  to  place, 
avoiding  his  native  village,  and  his  long  years  of  silent,  lonely 
pondering  had  taught  him  to  understand  the  ground  tones  of 
human  life.  All  day  his  heart  ached  with  a  passion  of  pity 
for  the  misery  and  need  where  all  might  have  been  sweetness, 
and  found  no  rest  for  the  anguish  of  his  compassion.  "  I  must 
cleanse  my  people  so  that  they  may  find  that  bliss  in  the  near- 
ness of  God  which  has  been  mine  since  my  childhood."  The 
whole  day  he  was  filled  with  the  immovable  courage  that  in- 
spired the  early  heroes.  "  I  will  make  it  come  to  pass.  I  will 
conquer  my  brethren  and  make  them  approach  God  in  the 
joyful  spirit  which  is  mine.  The  soul  is  made  for  goodness, 
its  nature  is  divine;  it  must  succeed  in  casting  forth  Satan  and 
his  friends.  A  storm  shall  blow  through  the  land  and  set  the 
people  free  from  evil ;  the  good  shall  conquer  and  convince  the 
evil;  the  eager  shall  carry  the  sluggish  with  them;  the  quiet 
overcome  the  cold-hearted  pietists.  God  and  His  angels  shall 
rule  over  the  people;  under  His  protection  they  shall  be  pure 
and  happy,  freed  from  sin  and  sorrow,  each  man  under  his  own 
roof  tree." 

Such  was  his  faith,  his  love,  his  hope:  and  he  announced  it 
in  words  like  morning  dew  or  the  water  of  a  deep  and  spark- 
ling spring,  to  a  people  of  quick  understanding,  deep  piety,  and 
ancient  race,  who  looked  back  from  the  desperate  misery  of  the 
present  to  the  glory  of  the  past  and  yearned  for  freedom  and 
happiness.  It  was  natural  that  he  roused  them.  Excitement 
spread  all  through  the  northern  district,  his  passage  from  vil- 
lage to  village  was  like  a  bridal  train.  Downcast  eyes  looked 
up :  they  began  to  sing  and  hum  in  voices  that  had  lost  their 
music  through  long  disuse.  Once  more  men  talked  of  great 
questions  at  their  doors  and  by  the  fireside:  these  were  great 
times  when  they  talked  of  their  God,  of  their  souls,  of  their 
country.  Stir  and  excitement  took  the  place  of  the  old  lassi- 
tude. 

The  quiet  men  were  well  pleased  with  him.  "  He  doesn't 
count  off  on  his  fingers  what  one  has  to  do,  and  what  one  is 
allowed  to  do.  Seven  times  seven:  and  you  may  eat  this  and 
you  may  not  do  that,  and  on  the  Sabbath,  so  and  so.  Who  can 
attend  to  all  these  commandments?  He  speaks  the  one  simple 


318  HOLYLAND 

truth,  '  Give  thy  soul  to  thy  Father  in  Heaven  and  to  thy  fel- 
low-men .  .  .  then,  thou  art  blessed.'  " 

And  in  the  evening  the  fishers  were  sitting  and  standing  on 
the  shore  beside  their  boats:  they  had  listened  to  him  and  seen 
him.  "  Simon  .  .  .  why  have  you  sat  all  day  without  saying 
a  word,  staring,  you  who  are  the  most  lively  of  all  as  a  rule? 
What  do  you  say  to  the  man  ?  "  Simon  got  up  from  the  edge 
of  the  boat,  his  lips  trembling,  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground.  "  Brother,  look  after  my  boat  and  my  nets., .  .  .  To 
give  one's  soul  to  God ;  to  have  one's  life  filled  with  love  and 
truth.  .  .  .  Blessed  is  the  man  who  goes  with  him.  ...  I  will 
follow  him  and  be  always  by  his  side." 

The  small  officials  surrounded  him :  he  was  their  man.  The 
Nationalists  said  to  them :  "  Pray  seven  times,  wash,  and  lay 
down  your  office.  If  you  don't  do  this  and  that  you  are  sin- 
ners, outcasts,  foredoomed  to  Hell."  He  did  not  so.  He  did 
not  rebuke :  he  did  not  curse.  He  showed  them  the  happiness 
of  a  soul  relying  in  love  on  the  goodness  of  God.  "  It  is  a 
light  yoke  and  a  soft  burden  indeed.  How  heavy  in  compari- 
son are  the  commandments  of  the  Church,  the  misdeeds,  the 
evil  conscience,  the  anxiety,  the  struggle  for  existence.  The 
burden  of  a  life  far  from  God  is  too  heavy  for  mortal  shoul- 
ders to  bear:  but  we  can  bear  it  with  a  brave  and  innocent 
heart  if  one  rests  like  a  child  against  the  knees  of  God.  And 
afterwards  comes  the  Kingdom  of  God." 

When  they  heard  this  they  rejoiced  and  'said  unto  another: 
"  What  can  one  say  to  that  ?  It's  the  absolute  truth.  What 
do  you  say,  Matthew,  you  brooder,  what  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 
The  same  evening  he  saw  Matthew  sitting  at  his  desk  in  his 
publican's  office,  and,  as  he  passed,  cast  a  long  look  towards 
him :  a  look  that  went  through  and  through  the  man,  so  that  he 
rose  slowly  to  his  feet,  compelled  by  those  wonderful  eyes  and 
the  force  of  that  spotless  goodness,  and,  taking  up  his  cloak, 
he  followed  him  with  blanched  face. 

All  the  sick  who  had  lain  in  misery,  often  from  their  child- 
hood on,  in  the  houses  of  their  relatives ;  all  those  who  had  been 
driven  from  their  homes  by  melancholy,  or  ill-weaved  ambition, 
by  the  visions  of  madness  or  the  grip  of  infectious  disease,  and 
dwelt  apart  in  deserted  and  ruinous  hovels  —  all  these  —  and 
there  were  thousands  of  them  —  came  in  wild  excitement.  All 
believed  that  for  some  sin  they  had  committed  they  were  now 


HOLYLAND  319 

inhabited  by  emissaries  of  Satan.  To  them,  the  possessed,  he 
came,  this  gracious,  gentle  son  of  man,  this  child  of  God,  with 
nothing  but  joy,  joy  and  irresistible  hope  in  his  heart.  "  There 
is  an  end  to  all  sorrow.  The  joyful  kingdom  of  Heaven  is  at 
hand !  "  They  cried  aloud :  "  Behold,  behold !  He  is  like  the 
holy  heroes  of  old !  God  dwells  within  him,  a  spirit  from  God 
dwells  within  him.  He  must  be  able  to  help  us,  in  whom  a 
spirit  of  evil  dwells."  Round  him  they  gathered,  a  crowd  of 
groaning,  cursing,  beseeching  humanity:  lost  souls  in  crippled 
bodies. 

It  is  impossible  to  paint  the  picture  in  sufficiently  moving 
language.  This  people  had,  perhaps,  no  more  sick  among  them 
than  others,  but  all  the  sick  lay  in  the  street,  aided  by  no  doc- 
tor, sheltered  by  no  roof,  consoled  by  no  compassion.  Now 
help  had  come:  help  from  God.  Ten  thousand  sick  and  one 
physician!  And  he?  He  knew  one  thing  —  there  is,  there  can 
be  no  sickness  in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven.  The  demon  of  dis- 
ease fell  away  like  discarded  rags  from  all  who  were  ready  to 
put  away  evil  from  them,  to  take  their  stand  on  God's  side. 
He  could  heal  when  heart  and  will  came  to  meet  him.  There 
was  on  his  side  a  holy  longing  to  help,  almost  feverish  in  its 
intensity,  a  passionate  cry  to  his  "  Father  in  Heaven,"  "  shall 
not  Thy  Kingdom  come  in  this  land."  When  there  met  him 
on  the  other  side  an  eager  faith,  an  utter  dependence  of  the 
diseased  and  weakened  will  on  the  courage  shining  in  his  stain- 
less eyes,  then  he  could  help.  "  Thou  art  the  child  of  God  ? 
A  child  of  God  cannot  be  sick.  .  .  .  Come,  give  me  thy  hand. 
.  .  .  Now  .  .  .  arise  .  .  .  now  .  .  .  rejoice,  be  not  afraid." 

They  cried  aloud  "  Behold,  the  Saviour!  he  is  the  Saviour!  " 
The  cry  rang  through  him.  "The  Saviour?  Am  I  he?  If  I 
am,  my  people  are  in  my  hand.  .  .  .  Lead  me  not  into  tempta- 
tion! Evil  spirits  speak  with  their  lips." 

In  the  evening  he  came  to  a  village  by  the  lake,  and  entered 
the  dwelling  of  an  acquaintance.  Immediately  the  house  was 
full  of  people,  crowding  up  to  door  and  window.  In  the 
village  there  was  a  hysterical  young  man,  with  no  strength  of 
mind  or  body,  who  had  lain  for  years  speechless  and  crippled 
in  a  morbid  trance,  supposed  by  himself  and  the  villagers  to  be 
smitten  by  evil  spirits.  Now.  his  father  and  mother  took  up 
the  litter  in  which  he  lay,  and,  coming  to  the  house,  cried, 
"  Let  us  come  in."  It  was  impossible.  Strong  arms  raised  the 


320  HOLYLAND 

litter,  or  the  flat-wooden  roof,  removed  some  of  the  beams,  and 
lowered  the  sick  man  to  Jesus'  feet.  There  was  a  loud  outcry 
on  all  sides,  the  surging  crowd  turned  their  eyes  to  him  in 
passionate  expectancy.  "  You  can  help :  you  must  help  the 
poor  man."  The  sick  man  looked  up  at  him,  trembling  en- 
treaty in  his  eyes.  He  bent  over,  and  something  of  his  holy 
desire  to  help,  something  of  his  confident  certainty  passed  into 
the  sick  man.  "  Since  thou  hast  come  in  passionate  entreaty, 
in  trembling  faith,  thou  art  free  from  the  evil  power:  the  evil 
spirits  have  no  power  upon  thee.  Thou  art  the  child  of  God: 
His  time  is  come."  With  a  cry  the  sick  man  raised  himself. 
"  Arise  and  walk."  It  was  a  great  time. 

A  spring  storm  went  through  the  little  land.  He  bore  the 
storm  and  the  storm  bore  him.  The  kingdom  of  heaven  had 
really  begun.  "  It  is  clear:  the  whole  people  will  be  won. 
Everywhere  the  rule,  the  kingdom  of  God  shall  have  might! 
His  will  has  hitherto  only  been  done  in  Heaven,  it  shall  now 
be  done  on  earth.  The  land  is  now  becoming  holy,  and  a 
Holyland  is  free  and  happy.  What  can  resist,  if  God  and  man 
stand  together  ?  " 

The  first  dark  clouds  rose  in  the  smiling  sky.  Two,  three, 
at  the  same  time. 

It  was  the  faith  of  the  whole  country  that  a  Saviour  was 
to  bring  about  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  upon  earth.  Therefore, 
soon  after  his  appearance,  there  began  to  be  questionings  among 
the  people.  "Is  this  the  Saviour?"  They  pondered  deeply 
over  it:  "  Is  this  he?  Yes,  this  is  he.  Look  at  his  eyes:  he  is 
the  blessed  Son  of  God.  Think  how  good  he  is,  how  blessed 
the  work  of  his  hands." 

Then  they  began  to  doubt  again.  "  No,  this  is  not  he.  How 
could  you  say  this  was  he?  Do  you  not  know  that  the  Saviour 
shall  be  descended  from  an  ancient  royal  house,  that  he  shall 
fulfil  the  law,  heal  all  the  sick,  destroy  the  oppressors,  and 
create  an  empire  upon  earth.  This  is  not  the  Saviour."  The 
hero  knew  that  he  was  the  Saviour:  his  own  holy  spirit  said  to 
him :  "  I  am  he  for  whom  ye  wait,  for  I  can  bring  my  people  to 
the  blessed  accomplishment  of  the  kingdom  of  God.  I  am  he 
for  whom  ye  wait  and  I  will  declare  that  I  am." 

He  saw  the  deep  gulf  that  separated  his  faith  and  the  faith 
of  his  people:  he  saw  that  they  did  not  understand  him,  that 


HOLYLAND  321 

they  could  not  free  themselves  from  the  old,  material  faith:  he 
saw  that  they  always  desired  to  confound  his  teaching  with  this 
old  material  faith,  and  now  it  surged  perpetually  round  him 
like  the  surf  dashing  against  the  cliff.  The  people  said  to  him, 
demanded  with  the  furious  hunger  of  a  concealed  desire,  "  Be 
the  Saviour  of  our  dreams!"  He  stood  firm,  pure  in  heart, 
gracious  in  spirit,  child  and  man :  "  I  will  be  the  Saviour  that 
my  Father  wills." 

Then  there  fell  a  shadow  over  that  pure  and  lofty  spirit. 
The  sick  and  the  insane  were  importunate  in  their  entreaties: 
and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  he  became  a  worker  of  miracles. 
Then,  as  now,  people  were  never  tired  of  propounding  as  a 
final  and  irrefragable  doctrine,  "  Health  is  the  highest  good." 
"  Make  me  healthy!  and  me!  and  my  brother!  and  my  child! 
If  you  can  do  that  you  are  the  Messiah,  the  Saviour."  Phys- 
ical suffering,  physical  needs,  rose  up  like  a  giant  and  pressed 
him  from  his  path. 

The  goal  to  which  his  path  led  was  not  the  release  from  sick- 
ness of  a  hundred  sick,  but  the  emancipation  of  a  whole  people 
from  all  the  ills  of  mind,  body,  and  estate  by  bringing  them 
over  to  the  side  of  God.  He  saw  the  danger  rising  gigantic 
before  him,  and  a  spirit  of  restlessness  drove  him  from  village 
to  village,  and  roused  him  anew  in  the  midst  of  his  desire  to 
dream  alone  in  lonely  fields. 

A  new  trouble  came  from  the  south,  from  the  capital.  The 
Nationalists  and  clericals,  dwelling  in  close  proximity  to  the 
great  temple,  used  to  send  their  least  important  teachers, 
priests,  and  agents  to  the  poor  populations  of  the  north.  But 
now  that  there  resounded  from  the  north  the  clear  note:  "  Our 
Father  in  Heaven  has  set  up  His  kingdom  in  our  land;  He 
will  make  us  free  and  blessed,"  they  realised  that  the  question 
was  highly  serious.  And  so  these  leaders  of  religion  and  pa- 
triotism sent  to  the  north  their  most  harsh  and  fervent  agents. 
They  regarded  him  with  dark,  knitted  brows. 

It  was  a  strange  intercourse,  with  the  mass  of  the  people 
indifferent  to  religion,  actively  opposed  to  the  Church,  and  the 
publicans,  the  betrayers  of  their  country.  "  Yes,"  he  said, 
mockingly ;  "  why  should  I  trouble  about  the  righteous,  the 
strong,  those  who  have  everything?  They  need  no  physician. 
I  love  those  who  seek  to  be  purified  and  healed,  who  hunger 
and  thirst  after  strength."  They  came  to  him  with  uplifted 


322  HOLYLAND 

hands,  a  commandment  at  the  end  of  each  finger.  "  God  says, 
you  shall  fast."  "Ah!"  he  replied;  "we  are  forced  to  fast 
when  our  throats  are  closed  by  fear  or  famine."  "  God  says, 
you  shall  do  no  work  on  Sundays."  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  rejoice 
and  help  one  another  on  Sundays."  In  clear  words,  glowing 
with  goodness,  he  opposed  their  distorted  and  senseless  interpre- 
tation by  his  truth,  which  came  to  men  like  sunshine.  He 
thought,  indeed,  that  he  might  avoid  a  breach  with  these  men. 
Carried  away  by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  people,  he  thought  that, 
in  spite  of  their  gloom,  they,  too,  would  be  aroused;  his  brave 
and  stainless  soul  still  cherished  the  dream,  "  The  whole  people 
blessed  and  holy  beneath  the  sceptre  of  God." 

But  a  few  days  later,  embittered  by  the  discovery  of  their 
own  impotence,  they  went  before  the  people.  There  is  nothing 
in  the  whole  world  more  dreadful  than  the  professional  religion 
of  people  whose  hearts  have  no  love  in  them.  "  He  violates 
the  commandments  of  God,  do  not  ye  do  so.  His  great  deeds 
are  done  by  evil  means."  Then  the  Holy  Helper  arose,  his 
gracious  heart,  as  always,  full  of  pity,  standing  before  them, 
as  the  angel  of  the  Lord  once  stood  in  burning  wrath  before 
Cain,  he  said,  "  Beware!  He  who  knowingly  calls  that  which 
is  good  evil  is  guilty  of  an  immortal  sin."  They  shrank  back 
and  made  their  way  south,  to  the  capital,  where  they  reported: 
"This  man  is  bringing  the  Church  in  the  north  into  disgrace; 
he  is  a  danger  to  God  and  the  State."  They  worked  in  the 
dark,  by  underground  means.  .  .  .  Soon  afterwards,  on  their 
instigation,  his  own  mother  and  brothers  came  from  his  native 
village  and  appeared  in  front  of  the  house  where  he  was. 
"  We  have  heard  that  some  say  he  is  one  of  the  heroes  of  old ; 
others  even  declare  him  to  be  the  Saviour  himself.  He  is  a 
poor,  demented  man.  Help  us  to  take  him  home  with  us." 

When  they  told  him  within  that  his  own  folk  were  mourn- 
ing over  him  outside,  his  strong,  stainless  heart  stood  still  for 
a  moment;  but  he  lifted  up  his  head. 

And  the  goodness  of  God  permitted  him  at  this  moment  to 
meet  beaming  eyes  looking  up  into  his.  "  I  have  no  mother," 
he  said,  "  and  no  brethren.  My  mother  and  my  brethren  are 
those  which  hear  the  word  of  God  and  do  it." 

Yet  the  blow  rankled.  "  I  am  deserted  by  mine  own  people, 
by  those  who  have  known  me  from  my  childhood  and  know 


HOLYLAND  323 

that  there  is  in  me  a  good  spirit  sent  from  God.  I  will  go 
home  and  see  whether  they  receive  me." 

He  went  from  village  to  village,  through  crowds  of  wor- 
shippers, and  curious,  miserable,  and  sick;  at  every  corner 
agents  of  the  Church;  and  so  reached  home.  They  were  ready 
for  him  there.  They  looked  at  him  with  sombre  eyes.  Jesus 
the  Carpenter,  old  Joseph's  son;  is  he  to  set  himself  above  the 
learned  priests  of  the  capital  ?  Is  he  to  be  a  saint  and  a  hero  ? 
The  Saviour  Himself  who  is  to  bring  the  kingdom  of  Heaven 
upon  earth? 

"If  you  can  .  .  .  look,  there  is  a  sick  man.  .  .  .  You  have 
known  him  since  your  childhood.  Help  him." 

In  the  sick  man's  eye  there  was  no  gleam  of  confidence,  of 
love.  His  trust  and  courage,  thus  lamed,  could  not  avail;  he 
could  not  help  him. 

Then  they  mocked  at  him,  and  cried  in  furious  anger :  "  The 
fool  has  made  us  a  laughing  stock  in  the  land."  They  wanted 
to  lay  hands  upon  him.  But  he  went,  and  departed  from 
among  them. 

His  home  was  lost. 

From  this  day  onward  the  way  of  the  gracious  one  led  into 
the  shadow;  from  this  day  his  face  bore  the  expression  of  in- 
tense struggle.  He  knew  not  that  all  could  not  be  children 
of  God ;  there  must  be  a  parting.  The  Baptist  had  spoken  of 
it.  Well,  then,  let  the  parting  come.  '  Think  ye  that  I  am 
come  to  give  peace  on  the  earth?  Not  peace,  but  a  sword." 

There  was  no  fear.  His  burning  eyes  sought  out  his  oppo- 
nents. He  knew  his  path  and  feared  it  not.  The  craftsman 
took  up  the  contest  against  the  history  of  his  people,  against 
the  great  men  of  his  people,  against  all  the  powers  of  the 
world.  He  knows  the  power  of  evil  is  at  an  end.  God  is  with 
him.  God  gives  him  the  victory.  "  I  am  come  to  cast  fire  upon 
the  earth,  and  would  it  were  ablaze  already." 

Through  the  land  there  rang  a  clear  and  piercing  trumpet 
call ;  like  a  signal  to  the  regiment  standing  drawn  up  in  the 
morning  grey,  to  charge  upon  the  foe,  it  penetrated  to  the  mar- 
row of  those  that  heard.  No  man  had  hitherto  struck  so  deep 
into  those  sacred  springs  where  the  divine  dwells  in  secret  in 
the  hearts  of  men.  No  one  had  spoken  with  such  power  to 
thrill  and  change. 


324  HOLYLAND 

"  Is  it  keeping  a  thousand  commandments,  my  brethren,  a 
load  that  is  laid  like  a  sack  of  sand  upon  the  back  of  an  ass, 
that  makes  men  righteous?  Is  it  praying,  fasting,  going  to 
church,  or  washing?  Purify  your  hearts,  my  brethren;  hold 
your  hands  always  ready  to  do  what  is  right  and  true.  Only 
those  who  do  the  will  of  God  can  hope  to  live  in  a  free  and 
happy  land.  Purify  your  lives,  purify  your  souls!  Be  holy; 
the  kingdom  of  Heaven  is  at  hand,  which  shall  set  men  asunder. 
Ye  have  heard  that  it  was  said  to  them  of  old  time :  "  Thou 
shalt  not  kill."  But  I  say  unto  you,  Away  with  all  anger  and 
all  hatred,  let  your  soul  glow  in  forgetting  and  forgiving. 
Ye  have  heard  that  it  was  said,  "  Thou  shalt  not  commit  adul- 
tery," but  I  say  unto  you,  If  thou  look  after  another  woman 
with  desire  in  thy  heart,  pluck  out  thy  right  eye  and  cast  it 
from  thee;  be  pure  with  the  one  eye  that  thou  hast.  Again, 
ye  have  heard  it  said,  "  Thou  shalt  not  forswear."  I  say  unto 
you,  A  lie  is  an  unthinkable  thing  to  the  children  of  God. 
Let  your  speech  be  yes  and  no  ...  that  is  enough.  You  have 
heard  it  said,  "  An  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth."  I  say 
unto  you,  Resist  not  him  that  is  evil.  Let  them  strike  you. 
You  will  overcome  them  by  your  gentleness.  ...  Be  all  good- 
ness and  compassion.  Put  away  everything:  clothing  and  fam- 
ily. Have  no  other  thoughts  but  "  Father  in  Heaven,  Thy 
kingdom  come."  What  are  possessions,  what  is  right  and 
wrong  in  the  kingdom  of  God?  But  if  the  power  of  evil  tries 
to  drag  you  away  from  God,  call  on  Him  and  pray,  pray  fer- 
vently. Ye  shall  be  heard,  most  assuredly  ye  shall  be  heard. 
Would  a  father,  when  his  children  ask  him  for  bread,  give 
them  stones?  .  .  .  What  things  are  ye  to  pray  for?  Trifles? 
Clothes  and  shoes,  a  house  and  garden,  good  neighbours,  and 
so  forth?  Assuredly  not.  A  little  bread  for  to-day,  so  that  ye 
may  live  to  see  the  kingdom  come.  Pray  that  the  kingdom 
come !  Pray  that  ye  be  ready  for  its  coming.  Pray,  "  Our 
Father,  Thy  kingdom  come.  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it 
is  in  Heaven.  Give  us  bread  this  day ;  forgive  us  as  we  forgive 
others." 

Looking  into  their  faces,  he  saw  reflected  in  their  eyes  the 
struggle  between  joyous  belief  and  oppressed  misery. 

Bitter  was  his  condemnation  of  all  earthly  goods.  "  Ac- 
cursed is  money;  accursed  the  care  that  lurks  in  the  shadow  of 
money.  Wealth  is  guilty  when  it  dominates  all  thoughts  and 


HOLYLAND  325 

conquers  the  soul  itself,  guilty  when  it  lives  in  idle  forgetful- 
ness  of  the  poor  and  sick  dwelling  near  it  in  the  squalor  of  their 
sunless  homes.  Accursed  is  money.  If  you  possess  it  you  are 
guilty.  Expiate  your  guilt;  give  away  your  money  to  lessen 
the  poverty  of  the  land." 

A  man  rose  up  and  came  to  Him,  "  Lord,  my  brother  is  de- 
ceiving me  about  my  inheritance.  Command  him  to  give  it 
to  me."  He  turned  away  in  contempt.  "  Man,  who  has  made 
me  a  judge  of  inheritance?  I  am  no  assigner  of  acres  and 
oxen !  I  am  here  to  say,  '  Let  your  wealth  go.  Look,  the 
sparrows  sow  not,  the  lilies  spin  not,  and  their  Father  in 
Heaven  feeds  and  clothes  them  every  day.  Shall  he  let  the 
children  of  his  kingdom,  the  care  of  his  soul,  perish  of  hunger 
and  cold?  Away  with  money!  It  is  worthless,  it  hinders  you. 
Do  not  collect  money,  collect  rather  the  love  of  God  and  man. 
Care  for  this  only ;  God's  land  shall  be  our  home.  Soon !  to- 
morrow! or  the  day  after  to-morrow!  Care  and  strive  only 
for  this  —  to  be  worthy  of  the  blessed  home,  the  blessed  time 
that  is  close  at  hand.' 

"  Be  not  afraid,  children  of  God !  Despair  not  of  your  own 
soul ;  God  dwells  within  it  to  help  it.  See  how  small  a  grain 
of  mustard  seed,  you  can  hold  it  between  the  tips  of  your  two 
fingers;  and  yet  it  grows,  grows  into  a  tree.  Be  not  afraid, 
children  of  God ;  will  one  thing  only,  to  bring  your  souls  close 
to  God.  Forgetting  all  else,  care  for  this  alone.  The  mer- 
chant goes  down  to  the  beach  to  buy  what  is  for  sale.  A  pearl- 
fisher  held  a  pearl  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  a  pearl  of  great 
price;  to  be  bought  cheap.  A  bargain,  a  bargain!  The  man 
hastened  away;  he  sold  and  put  away  from  him  his  land,  his 
house,  and  all  his  possessions,  and  returned  with  the  money  in 
the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  bought  the  pearl.  It  was  of  un- 
speakable value.  In  a  moment  he  became  very  rich.  Breth- 
ren, purify  your  souls!  Draw  near  to  God!  The  bliss  of  God 
costs  little  to  obtain.  Look  at  my  eyes,  look  at  my  life,  look  at 
all  I  do  —  God's  bliss  dwells  within  my  soul.  God's  bliss 
comes  —  yes,  it  comes.  Look  at  me." 

An  old  woman  had  kept  her  eager  eyes  fixed  upon  him ;  now 
she  cried  in  her  clear  old  voice,  "  Blessed  is  the  womb  that 
bare  thee,  and  the  breasts  which  thou  didst  suck." 

His  soul  was  still  full  of  soaring  hope.  He  forgot  and 
despised  the  enmity  of  the  clericals.  The  wound  his  home  had 


326  HOLYLAND 

dealt  him  healed,  although  a  scar  remained.  There  were  many 
who  doubted,  but  many  stood  before  him  with  joyful  eyes. 
Lofty  exaltation  went  before  him  like  a  gleaming  herald;  and 
the  faithful  stood  at  his  right  hand  and  his  left  like  knightly 
watchmen.  Rejoicing  sounded  behind  him  like  a  waving  ban- 
ner. 

His  courage  was  high;  he  sent  the  disciples  who  had  been 
three  or  four  months  with  him  now  into  the  surrounding  dis- 
tricts ;  they  declared,  "  There  is  an  end  to  all  sorrow ;  the  king- 
dom of  Heaven,  yearned  for  so  long,  is  now  at  hand.  A  man 
like  the  heroes  of  old,  a  man  beloved  by  God  and  men,  a  man 
of  kindly  strength  and  lofty  stainlessness  of  soul  is  now  among 
us.  He  announces  the  day  of  healing,  he  forgives  sin,  and  re- 
proves the  spirits  of  evil  and  casts  them  forth.  He  has  con- 
quered altogether;  our  enchanted  souls  stand  before  him  in 
speechless  rapture.  Believe  us,  cast  all  evil  from  you  that  your 
hearts  may  laugh  like  ours,  and  then  God  in  Heaven  will  sud- 
denly make  an  end  of  all  our  misery,  and,  with  the  help  of 
His  thousand  angels,  will  build  His  kingdom  in  our  land." 

After  a  week  they  returned.  "  Oh,  Lord,  even  the  evil 
spirits  within  the  sick  and  the  insane  did  our  bidding."  Then 
his  soul  rejoiced  mightily.  "  I  saw  Satan  fall  from  his  dark 
corner  in  Heaven  like  a  flash  of  lightning  on  to  earth,  to  save 
what  he  could  save.  He  sees  that  his  kingdom  is  at  an  end 
upon  the  earth.  But  I  laugh  and  rejoice  in  Thee,  my  Father 
in  Heaven ;  I  laugh  and  rejoice  that  Thou,  a  Mysterious  Being, 
hast  displayed  to  me  thy  graciousness  and  made  me  Thy  child, 
and  now  helpest  me  to  bring  to  Thee  many  others  of  Thy  chil- 
dren. I  laugh  and  rejoice  that  no  one  has  known  Thee  save  I 
alone,  that  all  must  now  see  from  me  and  learn  from  me  and 
attain  bliss  through  me.  I  laugh  and  rejoice  that  Thou  hast 
not  opened  Thy  kingdom  to  the  great  and  wise,  but  to  men 
like  me,  lowly  and  unlearned." 

And  so,  rejoicing,  he  went  on  his  way,  always  kindly,  always 
full  of  graciousness. 

A  rich  Nationalist  named  Simon,  who  liked  to  have  famous 
people  at  his  table  and  to  have  a  reputation  for  generosity,  in- 
vited him  to  a  feast.  The  table  was  set  in  the  open  hall;  the 
guests  sat  round  with  bare  feet,  according  to  the  custom  of  the 
country.  There  was  a  great  press  at  the  door ;  a  poor  girl,  tor- 
tured by  remorse  for  a  life  of  dissipation,  heard  that  he  was 


HOLYLAND  327 

there  of  whom  it  was  said  that  the  spirit  of  God  dwelt  in  him 
in  some  wondrous  manner.  She  stood  there  seeking  for  him; 
then,  recognising  the  true,  gentle  eyes,  she  fell  on  her  knees  be- 
fore him.  As  she  lay  there  she  saw  that  his  feet  were  dusty 
from  the  way,  and,  taking  water  from  a  vessel,  she  washed  his 
feet,  weeping  the  while,  and,  bending  down,  dried  them  with 
her  long  hair.  A  silence  fell  upon  the  hall ;  there  was  no  sound 
save  her  bitter  weeping.  Then  the  hero,  looking  up,  saw  secret 
scorn  written  on  the  face  of  his  host.  "  If  you  were  a  saint 
you  would  know  that  she  is  a  prostitute."  Fire  burned  in  his 
eyes.  "  Simon ;  I  have  something  to  say  to  you."  The  silence 
was  more  intense.  "  A  moneylender  lent  money  to  two  men, 
fifty  shekels  to  one,  five  hundred  to  the  other.  Neither  of 
them  could  pay  him  back.  He  gave  them  what  they  owed  him. 
Now  tell  me,  which  of  the  two  would  love  the  moneylender 
most?" 

Simon  smiled :  "  The  one  to  whom  the  most  was  given." 

Then  the  gracious  one  said  angrily:  "  Listen,  Simon.  All 
over  our  country  it  is  customary  to  give  a  guest  who  comes  in 
from  the  dusty  street  water  to  wash  his  feet,  and  a  friendly 
handshake.  You  gave  me  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  You 
think  you  do  not  need  to  be  kind ;  you  think  you  need  neither 
God  nor  man ;  you  think  you  owe  nothing  to  anyone,  not  even 
fifty  shekels.  You  think.  .  .  .  Oh,  this  lost,  ruined  woman ! 
.  .  .  This  woman,  Simon!  Five  hundred  shekels,  that  is  a 
great  deal  to  owe  God  and  man!  A  great  sinner!  But,  be- 
hold, all  her  sins  are  forgotten  and  forgiven ;  because  of  the  love 
she  has  poured  out  to  me,  a  wanderer,  and  to  God,  whom  she 
knows  within  me.  Love  of  God  and  man,  Simon,  can  cover 
a  multitude  of  sins.  Are  you  forgiven,  Simon?  " 

To  her  he  spoke  tenderly.  "  God  in  Heaven  is  thy  Father, 
too,  and  He  loves  thee.  He  loves  thee,  just  as  thou  art.  Do 
thou  love  Him  also,  even  if  thou  canst  not  free  thyself  from 
sin!  Go  now,  do  not  weep  so." 

And  so  he  went  from  village  to  village,  always  great  and 
good,  filled  with  new  inspirations. 

But  behind  him,  far  enough  behind  for  the  dust  of  daily  life 
to  have  settled  down  and  choked  the  excited  souls;  behind  him 
there  crept  black  enemies.  They  rose  like  crows  from  the  roof 
of  a  church,  rising  up  and  up,  flying  on  and  on,  following  the 
wild  beast  as  he  takes  his  lonely  way  into  the  field,  flying  be- 


328  HOLYLAND 

hind  him,  cawing  softly;  they  rose  from  the  great  temple  in 
the  south  and  flew  north,  flew  north  behind  him,  screeching. 
"  You  think  you  will  destroy  the  ancient  holy  things ;  you  shall 
yet  see  and  marvel,  you  fool,  how  deeply  rooted  they  are  in 
the  soul  of  the  people."  They  cried  passionately  to  the  people, 
"  Remain  in  the  faith  of  your  ancestors!  Will  you  deride  your 
fathers  in  their  graves?  Is  this  ignorant  man,  brought  up  in 
some  little  village  far  from  the  knowledge  of  the  Church,  on 
the  verge  of  the  moorland,  is  he  to  lay  hands  on  the  Holy  of 
Holies,  which  the  learned  men  of  God  protect?  Is  he  to  lay 
hands  on  the  sole  and  most  sacred  possession  of  our  poor,  un- 
happy country,  the  Church?  What  else  does  it  mean?  Is  this 
to  be  the  promised  Saviour?  Does  he  fulfil  a  single  condition 
of  the  true  Saviour?  He  is  the  servant  of  the  devil." 

They  stirred  up  misery,  fear,  and  terror;  they  let  confusion 
loose  again.  They  talked  secretly  with  the  women  and  with 
the  palsied  old  men.  They  played  upon  the  stupidity  and 
superstition  of  the  masses ;  freeing  them  from  the  terrible  neces- 
sity of  judging  for  themselves.  "  We  are  priests,  and  therefore 
know." 

Many  refused  to  listen  to  them.  Those  of  a  deeper  tender- 
ness of  soul,  many  a  strong,  simple  man,  many  a  brave  woman, 
many  a  workman  said,  "What  is  the  Church  to  us?  Has  it 
ever  cared  for  us  ?  " 

Many  looked  up  to  him  with  joyful  eyes,  transported  by 
his  inspiration,  his  goodness,  and  his  truth.  But  the  great  mass 
of  the  people,  that  blind  and  heavy  beast  that  had  lifted  its 
head  a  little  and  begun  to  look  about  it  a  little  when  his  clear 
voice  rang  in  its  ears,  the  mass  of  the  people  went  back  to  its 
slumbers.  "  Certainly  the  commandments  and  customs  of  the 
Church  are  sacred.  How  could  they  be  so  venerable  else? 
Our  fathers  and  our  grandfathers  strove  to  keep  them  faith- 
fully. Oh,  me!  what  an  age;  why  has  one  to  ponder  so  deeply? 
Sit  still,  my  soul;  my  soul,  the  priests  must  know.  Look  how 
clever  their  eyes  are,  and  what  deep  lines  are  in  their  lofty 
brows !  Beware,  my  soul !  I  pray  thee,  be  at  peace  and  keep  to 
the  old  order  of  things."  So  the  heavy  beast  became  calm  once 
more:  the  crows  flew  on  behind  him  without  uttering  a 
sound. 

The  sunshiny  hero  turned  and  retraced  his  steps;  the  whole 
district  he  had  covered  hitherto  was  not  more  than  five  or  six 


HOLYLAND  329 

days'  journey.  When  he  returned  he  found  a  change  in  the 
attitude  of  the  people;  he  saw  that  they  were  falling  away 
from  him.  He  went  on  until  he  came  to  a  village  through 
which  he  had  passed  in  triumph  four  months  ago;  the  people 
stood  on  the  thresholds,  immovable.  He  passed  through  several 
little  towns  by  the  lake,  where  four  and  five  months  ago  he  had 
been  surrounded  by  eager  crowds,  with  madmen  shrieking,  sick 
men  brought  out  into  the  street  on  their  litters,  women  im- 
ploring him  for  aid,  all  eyes  turned  to  him  in  passionate  excite- 
ment, every  one  at  his  feet,  as  he  declared,  "  Our  country  is 
now  like  a  blessed  Holyland."  Now  the  streets  were  empty, 
one  or  two  faces  looking  shyly  round  the  doors.  He  came  to 
the  little  town  by  the  lake  which  only  two  months  ago  he  had 
called  "  my  town  "  in  proud  assurance,  when  enthusiasm  had 
risen  high  in  streets  and  houses;  where  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven  seemed  already  to  rule  in  the  streets  and  to  inspire 
men's  hearts.  The  sick  still  came,  and  some  of  the  faithful. 
But  the  mass  of  the  people  stayed  nervously  at  home.  "  We 
can  hear  no  trumpet  blast  from  Heaven.  The  kingdom  of 
Heaven  does  not  come.  He  is  good,  but  mistaken."  The 
clericals  threatened. 

When  he  saw  the  decline  of  faith,  this  nervous  shrinking 
away  from  him,  he  could  not  restrain  the  words  of  burning 
anger.  "  Woe  to  you,  towns  of  the  lake ;  ye  who  have  seen 
wonders.  Others  would  have  repented  in  sackcloth  and  ashes. 
Woe  to  you,  my  town !  Thou  wast  raised  up  to  Heaven,  thou 
shalt  be  cast  down  to  Hell."  All  joy  was  gone;  his  heart  was 
burdened  and  cast  down.  What  could  he  do?  His  soul,  preg- 
nant with  a  new  and  glorious  world,  could  not  bring  it  into 
being.  What  could  he  do?  He  knows  that  his  Heavenly 
Father  is  ever  by  his  side,  but  men  will  not  believe.  What  can 
he  do?  To  go  back  is  impossible,  but  can  he  abandon  the 
cause  of  his  joy;  leave  the  truth  with  all  its  sweetness?  What 
can  he  do?  Come  to  an  understanding  with  the  Church 
party?  Say,  "  Go  on  fasting  and  washing,  keep  the  command- 
ments and  the  Sabbath,  and  purify  your  hearts."  That  was 
impossible.  One  cannot  cut  truth  in  halves,  keep  one  half  and 
let  the  other  go.  If  it  meant  death,  he  must  stand  by  the 
truth,  one  and  indivisible.  Srrve  God  whole-heartedly,  and 
God's  will  be  done!  .  .  .  "What  is  God's  will?  What  is 
He  doing  with  me  ?  " 


330  HOLYLAND 

Then  there  came  two  events  to  bring  the  final  clearness,  like 
nightly  beacons  to  show  the  further  path. 

Once  again  for  the  second  and  last  time  the  wild,  dark  ap- 
parition rose  before  him  which  six  months  ago,  had  awakened 
his  dreaming  soul  with  clarion  voice;  the  hero  of  the  stream, 
the  Baptist.  He  was  now  a  prisoner,  and  in  his  prison  strained 
like  the  captured  deer  for  the  fresh  woodland  and  the  keen 
wind.  He  sent  two  disciples  to  the  north.  "  Go  and  ask  him 
what  he  is  doing.  What  does  -he  seek?  Do  not  the  people 
exult  in  him,  have  they  made  him  king?  Why  does  not  he 
arise  like  a  lion  and  fill  the  land  with  his  roar?  Do  not  the 
old  prophecies  say  the  Herald  of  the  Lord  shall  go  south  to 
the  capital,  and  then,  sitting  on  the  throne  of  the  ancient  kings, 
rule  for  ever  over  a  free  people?  Why  does  he  not  go  thither, 
sword  in  hand,  at  the  head  of  the  people  that  have  exulted  in 
him  for  six  months?  Go  and  ask  him,  Art  thou  the  great 
Saviour,  sent  by  God,  for  whom  we  have  cried  aloud  for  eight 
hundred  years?  Or  must  we  wait  for  another?  " 

The  question  fell  like  lead  upon  the  hero's  heart.  "  He,  too, 
has  the  old  material  hero  before  his  eyes!  He,  too,  does  not 
understand."  He  answered  brief  and  clear:  "Tell  him,  the 
kingdom  of  God  exists;  and  this  it  is:  Sickness  and  sin,  poverty 
and  sorrow  are  declining,  and  the  oppressed  people  is  full  of 
laughing  joy."  He  raised  his  hand  and  said,  shaken  by  this 
cruel  separation  from  the  brave  hero,  "  This  is  a  brave  and 
true  man,  but  he  has  fallen  into  the  grave  error  of  thinking, 
like  the  self-righteous,  that  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  will  come 
to  pass  by  means  of  earthly  might.  But  I  say  unto  you  that 
the  pure  and  lowly  are  the  citizens  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven, 
and  they  will  make  their  way  thither  without  weapons  and 
without  armour,  without  forms  and  commandments." 

When  the  clericals  heard  how  he  spoke  of  their  venerable 
precepts  they  rose  against  him;  they  ventured  to  attack  the 
lion,  now  that  his  strength  seemed  to  be  failing. 

'  Tell  us  plainly  what  do  you  say  to  all  the  sacred  com- 
mandments issued,  by  the  Church?" 

He  trampled  their  sacred  customs  and  commandments  under 
his  feet.  "  You  hypocrites,  are  these  the  commandments  of 
God  ?  No,  they  are  the  senseless  invention  of  men,  which  come 
between  the  people  and  the  will  of  God.  Away  with  the 


HOLYLAND  331 

Church  ritual  of  righteousness;  it  is  the  curse  of  the  people. 
Nothing  matters  but  the  heart  of  a  man  and  the  life  he 
leads." 

There  was  an  end  of  the  so-called  "  sacred  "  precepts,  an 
end  of  all  pretentious  self-complacent  righteousness;  he  cast 
them  all  to  the  ground,  the  ancient  holies,  the  ornate  and 
costly  churches,  the  ceremonial,  the  countless  priests,  the 
wreaths  and  masses,  the  sacrifices  and  the  sacraments,  the  long 
pilgrimages,  all  that  had  weighed  on  mankind  for  centuries  he 
swept  away;  on  his  shoulders  there  now  rested  the  whole  bur- 
den of  human  destiny. 

He  was  now  an  accursed  sinner,  a  blasphemer  of  God. 
"  Listen,  listen !  Have  you  heard  ?  He  has  defiled  everything 
holy;  he  is  an  emissary  of  the  devil."  And  the  masses,  that 
blind,  heavy  beast,  crept  further  away  from  him. 

"  What  now?  What  will  become  of  me  and  my  work  now? 
I  feel  that  death  and  sorrow  are  drawing  nigh.  .  .  .  What 
then?  Farewell,  young  life.  ...  If  I  only  knew  how  to  carry 
the  duty  He  has  laid  upon  my  soul.  Oh,  dear  country,  how 
can  I  make  you  pure  and  holy,  ready  for  the  time  when  God 
shall  come  with  His  angels  to  set  up  His  kingdom  within 
your  bounds?  How  can  I  complete  my  work,  hated  as  I  am 
by  the  rich  and  righteous,  supported  by  the  people  one  day, 
only  to  be  deserted  by  them  the  next?  How  am  I  to  begin? 
How  can  I  make  the  people  one  with  me  in  spirit,  so  that  we 
can  break  into  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  together?  How  does 
He  will  that  I  should  help  Him?" 

And  behold ;  as  he  questioned  fearfully  he  saw  as  if  in  a 
mist  the  old  sacred  banner  waving  on  his  path  in  front  of  him, 
the  banner  up  to  which  the  people  had  looked  with  dazzled 
eyes  for  eiffht  hundred  years.  "The  Saviour  will  come;  the 
son  of  a  King."  How  the  people  gazed!  "Is  he  coming? 
He  is  come?  There  is  the  banner  swaying;  look  how  the 
sword  flashes!  "  A  wild  shout  of  joy  rent  the  skies,  the  people 
were  at  their  Saviour's  feet. 

"  Shall  I  take  the  banner  in  my  hand ;  shall  I  say  I  am  the 
Saviour  —  I  ?  " 

"  Those  possessed  by  evil  spirits  cry  out,  '  You  are  he! '  In 
many  an  hour  of  exaltation  the  people  have  urged  me  to  say, 
'I  am  he.'  The  hero  from  the  river  asked,  'Art  thou  he?' 
All  dream  of,  all  long  for,  the  cry,  '  Out  with  the  banner!  ' 


332  HOLYLAND 

"  I  know  that  I  am  he.  From  my  childhood  I  have  been  the 
child  of  God." 

"  If  I  do  not  raise  the  banner  there  is  no  hope  that  God  will 
win  the  people." 

"Beware,  do  not  touch  the  banner;  there  is  earth  clinging 
to  it.  Beware!  thou  knowest  that  the  Saviour,  in  whom  the 
people  believe,  is  not  he  in  whom  thou  believest;  their  belief 
is  wild,  confused,  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  thee ;  it  will  drag 
thee  and  thy  stainless  mission  down  into  the  dark  confusion 
of  death." 

He  went  north,  across  the  border,  to  be  alone  in  a  strange 
place,  with  his  little  band  of  disciples.  His  soul  was  heavy  and 
perturbed.  "  I  know  that  my  Father  in  Heaven  is  with  me 
.  .  .  my  faith  does  not  tremble.  .  .  .  God  rules  within  my 
soul.  His  kingdom  will  come  on  earth,  and  soon.  How 
strangely  hard  it  is  to  be  one  with  God  and  yet  unable  to 
bring  His  will  to  pass.  .  .  .  And  it  is  time  ...  I  must  go 
south,  I  must  go  through  the  whole  land,  I  must  go  to  the 
capital  and  proclaim  there  also  that  the  kingdom  of  Heaven 
is  at  hand.  What  am  I  to  do?  Listen  to  the  mysterious  rus- 
tling of  the  old,  the  miraculous  banner!  He  who  holds  it  has 
strength.  The  people  follow  him!  What  do  the  old  chron- 
icles say  of  the  Saviour  ?  '  A  twig  from  the  ancient  royal 
stem  '  —  and  I  am  a  craftsman  sprung  from  the  people.  What 
do  they  say?  What  do  the  people  say  when  they  sit  by  their 
doors  in  the  evening?  '  He  will  hold  in  his  hand  the  might  of 
earthly  power;  he  will  ride  against  the  foe  with  waving  ban- 
ners.' .  .  .  No,  I  will  not  do  it  —  will  not  depart  from  the 
word  that  God  has  spoken  to  me.  Blessed  are  the  meek. 
Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart.  And  do  the  old  chronicles  tell 
no  other  story?  Do  they  not  speak  of  the  king  of  peace? 
'  Behold,  O  land,  thy  king  is  come,  clad  in  peace.'  Not  a 
king  ruling  with  the  sword  over  a  people  armed  with  swords; 
a  king  ruling  in  the  strength  of  a  pure  and  lofty  heart  other 
people  that  are  pure  in  heart.  And  I  am  he." 

So  he  pondered  over  the  history  of  his  people  and  over  his 
own  future,  and  he  did  not  depart  by  one  hair's  breadth  from 
the  truth  that  was  the  sacred  possession  of  his  soul.  They 
turned  and  went  south,  homewards.  As  he  drew  near  the 
familiar  district  the  crowd  that  followed  him  grew. 

The  contest  still  raged  in  his  soul. 


HOLYLAND  333 

"  Are  you  the  Saviour  ?  Then  seize  the  banner ;  help  thy 
people  and  God  will  be  with  thee."  Already  there  shone  in 
his  eyes  the  light  of  another  world.  The  knees  of  those  who 
saw  him  bent  beneath  them;  the  sick  and  the  poor  rejoiced; 
thousands  followed  his  healing  hands,  and  hearkened  to  his 
gracious  words,  feeling  neither  hunger  nor  thirst.  He  filled 
the  souls  with  such  joy  that  they  forgot  their  bodies. 

The  priests  alone  remained  unmoved;  religion  had  long 
since  turned  to  poison  in  their  hard  hearts.  "  You  are  a  won- 
der worker,  but  what  sort  of  wonders  have  you  done?  Healing 
the  sick  ?  There  are  many  in  the  land  who  can  do  that.  Come, 
make  red  fire  descend  from  the  blue  sky,  here  on  this  moorland 
path  where  you  stand  now.  Or  if  not  that,  then  let  an  angel 
from  God  stand  with  his  pure  feet  on  the  white  sand  on  your 
left!" 

In  bitter  anger  he  replied,  "  You  want  a  sign  from  Heaven, 
that  belief  and  salvation  may  cost  you  nothing!  Ye  have  seen 
and  heard  of  a  holiness  that  has  never  existed  in  the  world  be- 
fore, and  yet  ye  have  not  believed!  A  sign  from  Heaven? 
Ye  shall  have  it  when  ye  rise  from  your  graves  before  the 
judgment  seat." 

Hearing  question  and  answer,  the  people  were  once  more 
filled  with  doubt,  because  they  had  seen  nothing.  "  Many 
people  can  heal  the  sick;  ay,  and  work  wonders;  the  world  is 
full  of  them." 

Once  more  he  crossed  the  border  into  the  loneliness  of  the 
north,  wandering  over  deserted  moorland  paths,  sorely  troubled 
by  the  scornful  attack  of  the  priests  and  the  wavering  of  the 
people.  "  I  cannot  reach  the  goal  in  this  way.  How  am  I 
to  bring  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  to  pass  upon  Earth?  Father 
in  Heaven,  help  me!  " 

'  Thou,  art  the  Saviour;  now  thou  art  strong!  " 

He  went  further  on  his  desolate  way.  "  What  is  written 
concerning  the  Saviour  in  the  ancient  chronicles?  They  talk 
of  the  waving  palm  leaves  and  the  rejoicing  of  children,  of  a 
joyous  entry  in  the  capital,  and  then  of  a  glorious  rule  over  a 
sinless,  obedient  people;  but  is  that  all  they  say?  Do  they 
not  speak  of  the  people,  "  the  people  will  make  deaf  its  ears 
and  turn  its  heart  to  stone,"  and  they  speak  of  revilement  and 
contempt,  of  bitter  desertion,  of  a  miserable  and  lonely  death. 
They  speak  not  only  of  the  Saviour's  victory,  but  of  his  death." 


334  HOLYLAND 

"And  after  death?" 

"  What  then  —  what  after  death  ?  What  says  the  chron- 
icle? 'One  like  a,  child  of  man  arose  to  heaven  among  the 
clouds,  and  was  brought  before  the  Ancient  of  Days;  to  him 
were  granted  power  and  glory  and  kingdom  upon  earth,  all 
peoples  and  all  races  were  to  serve  him;  his  power  was  to  en- 
dure unchanged  for  ever,  his  kingdom  was  never  to  suffer  de- 
struction. .  .  .'  It  may  be  that  the  Saviour  must  first  die  and 
go  to  God  to  receive  the  crown  .  .  .  and  then  .  ..  .  after  a 
few  days  ...  on  the  third  day  he  returns  and  establishes  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven." 

His  soul  soared  to  the  heavenly  heights  and  expanded  so  as 
to  embrace  the  whole  of  humanity;  weaving  visions  of  mar- 
vellous splendour,  touching  the  extreme  limits  of  human 
thought  in  lofty  delirium.  There  was  no  fear  in  him.  If  the 
hearts  of  men  were  made  of  stone  was  it  not  written  in  the 
chronicle,  "  I  make  thy  brow  harder  than  stone,  as  hard  as  a 
diamond?"  No;  there  was  no  fear;  no.  He  will  execute  his 
Father's  will,  were  it  even  more  wonderful,  even  more  diffi- 
cult. If  only  men  are  helped!  His  ideal  never  changes;  it  was 
still  the  same  as  when  he  first  arose  among  men  —  the  condi- 
tion of  humanity,  its  misery,  sickness,  madness,  wretchedness 
and  oppression,  sin  and  guilt,  cannot  endure.  A  wonder  must 
take  place.  The  kingdom  of  Heaven  will  and  must  come. 
Then  men,  pure,  rejoicing  in  the  goodness  of  God,  content  in 
mind  and  body,  will  find  happiness  in  performing  His  will, 
"  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  Heaven."  This  holy 
work  was  his  to  do  on  earth  with  the  help  of  God.  That  was 
his  idea.  Never  for  a  moment  did  he  depart  by  one  hair's 
breadth  from  his  true  and  stainless  self.  He  brooded  long  and 
painfully  over  the  execution  of  his  idea.  He  had  judged  the 
ancient  customs;  he  now  considered  the  hopes  of  the  peo- 
pie.  .  .  . 

"  I  must  lift  up  the  ancient  standard,  it  shall  be  pure  and  my 
course  pure.  I  must  lift  up  the  ancient  standard:  only  under 
this  standard  can  the  people  be  inspired  by  faith.  It  is  the  will 
of  God:  otherwise  He  would  help  me  without  the  standard. 
I  will  lift  up  the  standard.  Then,  then  it  will  come  with  loud 
rejoicing  from  Heaven,  with  the  help  of  the  angels,  the  king- 
dom of  Heaven  upon  earth." 

So  he  brooded.     Torn  by  the  world's  travail,  torn  by  the 


HOLYLAND  335 

very  sublimity  of  his  own  nature,  he  went  behind  the  heavy 
horses  that  drew  the  wagon  of  humanity  through  the  dark  val- 
ley, holding  the  obstinate,  the  slow,  and  the  impatient  on  a 
short  rein,  forcing  them  up  on  to  an  upland  path,  where  the 
sun  shone  and  the  wind  blew  upon  them. 

They  went  on  their  way  across  the  moor  towards  the  north 
for  three  or  four  days,  he  in  front,  lost  in  thought,  the  disci- 
ples behind  with  sinking  spirits,  that  only  rose  when  he  turned 
to  look  at  them.  His  eyes  were  at  once  their  terror  and  their 
joy.  Thus  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  How  long 
would  he  wander  on,  undecided?  The  hour  of  decision  must 
come. 

"Tell  me,  what  do  the  people  say  that  I  am?" 

It  is  sad  that  he  should  have  to  ask  people's  opinion. 

The  disciples  replied,  "  They  say  you  are  one  of  the  heroes 
of  old ;  one  of  the  dead  arisen,  they  say." 

"  And  what  do  you  say?  " 

The  hot-headed  fellow  among  them  cried  out  of  a  full 
heart,  "You  —  you  are  the  Saviour!  .  .  .  we  have  long 
known  it." 

"  Yes,  you  are  the  Saviour." 

"Only  speak,  and  you  could  rule  the  land." 

"  And  then,  out  with  the  sword !  Down  with  the  foreign 
rule  and  the  upstart  parsons !  " 

"You,  King  in  your  native  country!  .  .  .  Your  kingdom  at 
the  sword's  point!  " 

"  And  we,  your  disciples,  standing  to  your  right  and  left, 
vassals  and  ministers." 

It  filled  him  with  horror  to  see  how  little  even  these  men 
understood  him,  these  men,  nearer  to  him  than  all  others,  who 
had  been  with  him  for  half  a  year.  He  answered  harshly, 
"  Do  ye  know  what  is  written  ?  It  may  come  to  war  and  con- 
quest. .  .  .  But  the  old  books  tell  a  different  tale:  a  tale  of 
sorrow  and  death,  and  then,  and  not  till  then,  the  glory 
comes." 

They  shook  their  heads;  they  could  not  understand.  The 
old  books,  the  inspiration  of  their  youth  had  taught  them  only 
the  wild  song  of  joyful  contest  —  up  with  the  banner  of  salva- 
tion! and  God  and  His  hosts  will  give  the  victory.  The  hot- 
headed one  came  close  to  him  and  whispered,  "  Do  not  talk  so 
much  of  humility  and  purity  and  death !  Talk  more  about  the 


336  HOLYLAND 

sword!  Up  to  the  throne!  .  .  .  Who  shall  sit  on  thy  right 
hand,  Master?" 

He  pushed  them  aside,  "  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan.  I 
hearken  only  to  the  will  of  God.  What  shall  it  profit  a  man 
if  he  gain  the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul?  He  who 
will  follow  me  must  put  from  him  all  wild  and  earthly  desires, 
and  go  with  me  to  life  or  death,  victory  or  defeat." 

They  turned   and  went  to  their  homes. 

He  went  on  alone.  A  man  pure,  good,  and  holy,  wrapped 
in  sublime  thoughts,  in  wonderful  visions  and  dreams,  set  apart 
by  his  love  for  mankind  and  for  the  eternal  and  mysterious 
power  which  he  called  Father!  Never  was  man  so  utterly 
alone;  one  man  against  a  whole  people,  against  the  whole  of 
humanity.  But  the  Eternal  Power  spread  its  arms  around 
him.  He  resolved  to  go  south,  and  there  proclaim  the  kingdom 
of  Heaven  in  the  capital,  bearing  in  his  brave,  fearful  soul  the 
power  to  meet  all  that  might  come. 

What  can  stand  against  the  soul  of  a  man  sublime  and 
stainless  ? 

As  they  journeyed  southwards,  his  eyes  looking  their  last 
on  the  green  hills  and  vale  round  the  lake,  crowds  once  more 
gathered  the  helper  and  friend  of  men  to  hear  his  wondrous 
words.  Now  there  was  a  new  astonishment:  the  disciples  did 
not  conceal  the  secret  they  had  learned.  "  He  himself  has  said 
he  is  the  Saviour!  The  Saviour  for  whom  we  have  waited  for 
eight  hundred  years!  " 

;'The  Saviour!" 

"Was  not  the  Saviour  to  be  of  an  ancient  royal  house? 
Was  he  not  to  come  in  the  golden  panoply  of  war?  Was  he 
not  to  wield  the  sword  and  ride  upon  the  storm?  This  man 
is  good,  ay,  and  holy;  he  speaks  of  mercy  and  of  purity  of 
heart." 

Questions  were  asked  and  answered  in  feverish  excitement. 
There  was  no  wild  outburst  of  rejoicing. 

The  clericals  went  to  the  Duke,  who  had  a  considerable  regi- 
ment in  the  north,  and  was  always  eager  to  find  some  way  of 
ingratiating  himself  with  the  all-powerful  imperial  governor 
in  the  south.  They  roused  him  by  saying,  "  Before  he  was 
merely  a  harmless  enthusiast,  but  now  that  he  calls  himself  the 
Saviour  he  has  become  a  political  offender." 


HOLYLAND  337 

Faithful  adherents  warned  the  hero  of  a  conspiracy  on  foot 
against  him,  but  he  was  already  on  his  way  south.  There  was 
reason  for  hastening  his  journey.  The  great  festival  of  the 
Church  was  just  beginning  in  the  capital;  thousands  of  people 
assembled  from  all  parts  of  the  country,  and  their  compatriots 
scattered  in  all  quarters  of  the  globe  came  too. 

He  would  arise  in  the  midst  of  the  festival  and  declare,  "  I 
am  the  Saviour.  I  ...  I  shall  bring  to  pass  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven  upon  earth."  And  then  the  Heavenly  Father  would 
appear  by  his  side  with  more  than  ten  thousand  warriors  from 
His  Heavenly  host.  And  if  not  he  would  come  again,  soon 
after  his  death,  with  the  Heavenly  host  behind  him.  He  sent 
a  message  breathing  contempt  to  the  Duke,  "  Tell  the  fox 
that  I  am  healing  the  sick  and  the  insane,  and  on  the  third  day 
I  reach  my  goal."  With  the  courage  of  despair,  conscious  of  the 
shadows  closing  round  him,  he  said,  "  I  must  go  on  my  way 
to-day,  to-morrow,  the  day  after  to-morrow,  for  they  must  rise 
in  the  capital  whom  God  has  inspired  and  set  in  flames."  His 
words  entered  in  like  nails  into  the  hearts  of  his  friends.  "  I 
must  die;  but  I  shall  return  in  glory,  clad  with  the  might  of 
God,  to  establish  His  kingdom." 

And  so  for  the  last  time  he  journeyed  through  his  home  on 
his  way  south,  with  folded  lips,  in  his  heart  foreknowledge  of 
death,  in  his  soul  the  courage  of  despair,  keeping  his  way  secret 
as  far  as  he  could,  to  reserve  his  strength  for  his  entry  into  the 
capital.  .  .  .  But  his  companions  went  with  him,  behind  him 
and  before  him,  in  joyous  array,  crying  aloud,  "  The  long- 
expected  Saviour  is  at  hand!  The  great  transformation  is  at 
hand !  The  great  day  is  come ;  not  as  we  expected,  but  it  is 
come.  Wonders  are  taking  place.  Come  and  behold  them." 

The  agents  of  the  Nationalists  flew  ahead  like  crows :  "  Men 
of  the  south,  pillars  of  the  Church,  hold  high  your  heads.  He 
is  at  hand,  he  is  at  hand,  and  he  says  he  is  the  Saviour.  The 
Saviour!  " 

And  a  wild  outcry  resounded  from  the  temples.  On  to  the 
south,  hour  after  hour,  onwards,  through  crowds,  on  lonely 
paths;  as  they  went  their  souls  inspired  by  his  vivid  words  to 
the  belief  that  they  should  stand  armed  and  ready  for  the  break 
of  the  glorious  day  of  the  kingdom  of  Heaven;  out  of  the 
bloody  dawn  of  his  death.  He  told  them  of  the  farmer's  son 
who  had  left  his  home  in  the  pride  of  his  heart  and  gone  out 


338  HOLYLAND 

into  the  evil  world,  and,  after  wallowing  in  the  mire  and  fall- 
ing upon  bitter  sorrow,  returned  home  and  been  lovingly  re- 
ceived there.  .  .  .  He  told  them  of  the  woman  who  lost  a 
fourpenny-piece  and  searched  for  it  far,  far  into  the  night,  and 
how  her  heart  rejoiced  within  her  when  she  found  it.  ...  He 
told  them  of  the  shepherd's  long,  long  search  for  the  lost  sheep. 
He  had  a  hundred  sheep,  but  he  searched  till  dawn  for  this 
one  that  was  lost.  How  he  rejoiced  when  he  found  it!  Be- 
hold, of  such  worth  is  a  human  soul  in  the  eyes  of  God!  so 
does  He  rejoice  over  it!  Take  heed  of  your  souls,  that  are  so 
cherished.  Take  heed  that  they  are  worthy  of  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven,  which  is  now  drawing  near. 

The  train  that  followed  them  swelled  as  they  went  on.  One 
day  passed,  and  then  another,  and  the  capital  was  no  longer  far 
away.  Th'en  the  pious  fools  stepped  once  more  across  his  path. 
They  wanted  to  force  him  to  weave  a  net  for  himself  to  hold 
him  in  its  meshes,  when  he  raised  his  hand  and  said,  "  I  am 
the  Saviour  —  listen :  in  the  books  it  is  written,  as  you  know 
'  If  the  man  please  he  can  turn  away  his  wife.  Get  thee  hence, 
woman ;  I  will  behold  thee  no  longer.'  "  He  looked  down 
upon  them.  "  Marriage  means,  ye  are  one  for  life." 

He  was  the  first  to  put  the  weak  woman  beside  the  man  as 
his  equal.  .  .  .  Women  of  the  world,  ye  owe  him  much. 

They  stepped  back  in  silence.  He  was  greater  than  the  an- 
cient writings. 

When  they  halted  for  the  night  the  mothers  came  to  him 
with  their  children  in  their  arms  and  holding  their  hands,  and 
asked  him  to  bless  them.  The  disciples,  like  all  the  people  of 
their  age,  wanted  to  turn  the  children  coldly  away. 

"  Children  ?  Away  with  them !  Creatures  of  no  account ! 
Beat  them,  drive  them  back!  " 

He  said,  "  In  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  there  are  none  of  little 
account;  all  shall  sit  at  the  feast,  all  shall  be  filled.  And  the 
children  above  all!  The  children  above  all.  They  are  full  of 
trust,  and  therefore  they  are  great  in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven. 
Be  as  the  children  are !  Come  hither,  mother,  come  hither  with 
thy  babe."  He  took  the  children  on  his  knee  and  kissed  them. 

He  was  the  first  to  bring  the  children  into  the  sunshine.  He 
was  the  first  to  put  the  children  beside  the  old  as  their  equals. 
Women  and  children  of  the  world!  ye  owe  him  much. 

They  went  on  for  the  third  and  last  day. 


HOLYLAND  339 

The  crowd  grew,  procession  after  procession  filling  the  wide 
road  on  their  way  to  the  capital.  Strangers  coming  from  the 
east  joined  them.  All  had  heard  of  the  holy  hero,  and  now 
heard  more  as  they  ran  whispering  together  and  marvelling  over 
his  mien  and  the  lofty  purity  of  that  face,  in  which  already 
burned  the  knowledge  of  death  like  a  beacon  in  a  stormy 
night.  The  sea  surged  round  him. 

A  rich  young  man  knelt  in  the  dust  before  him,  "  Master, 
what  can  I  do  to  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  ?  " 

And  he  bent  down  to  him  and  said,  "  Thou  knowest  the 
commandments :  '  Thou  shalt  not  bear  false  witness  .  .  . 

"  All  that  I  have  observed  .  .  .  since  I  was  a  child  .  .  . 
but  there  is  no  peace  in  my  soul." 

He  bent  further  down  to  him;  the  young  man  pleased  him: 
he  thought,  "  Here  is  a  soul  that  belongs  to  Thee."  "  One 
thing  is  wanting  for  thy  peace  of  soul :  give  all  thou  hast  to  the 
poor  and  follow  me." 

Then  he  arose,  sighing  deeply,  and  staggered  away  till  he 
was  lost  to  sight  among  the  crowd. 

"  How  hard  it  is  for  a  rich  man  to  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  Heaven." 

The  crowd  swelled,  procession  joining  procession.  The  de- 
cision was  near. 

Two  of  the  disciples  came  up  to  him,  "  Lord,  promise  us  that 
we  shall  be  thy  lieutenants  afterwards." 

He  looked  at  them  in  trouble.  "Are  ye  fain  to  die  with 
me?" 

"  Yes,  Lord,  we  are  fain." 

His  eyes  shone  into  theirs.  "  It  shall  be  as  ye  say;  ye  shall 
die  with  me  for  my  sake,  and  afterwards  ye  shall  rule  with  me. 
But  God  alone  can  say  who  shall  be  second  after  me  and 
third.  .  .  ."  He  turned  to  the  friends  nearest  him,  "  Ye  must 
not  let  yourselves  be  called  '  lord.'  One  alone  is  our  Lord,  our 
Father  in  Heaven.  In  the  world  they  sav:  Lord,  Lord;  rule, 
rule;  but  ye  say:  Serve,  serve,  as  much  service  as  possible. 
Help  and  heal.  Serve  as  I  serve,  who  eive  up  my  life  to  free 
thousands  from  the  evil  and  meaningless  service  of  life,  and 
give  them  happiness  in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven." 

The  streets  of  the  little  town  outside  the  capital  surged  with 
the  excited  crowd.  On  the  branch  of  a  tree  there  stood  a  little 
man,  a  publican,  who  had  grown  rich  with  the  money  he  had 


340  HOLYLAND 

extorted  from  a  poor  and  oppressed  people.  In  his  eyes  was 
reflected  the  trouble  of  his  uneasy  conscience.  "  Woe  is  me, 
if  the  kingdom  come  now  and  my  poor  soul  must  stand  out- 
side, though  it  yearns  for  redemption." 

The  Saviour  saw  the  eyes  and  knew  them  for  such  as  he 
could  use.  "Who  is  that  man?" 

"  He  is  a  rogue.     A  traitor,  an  accursed  tax-gatherer." 

"  Come  down  from  the  tree ;  I  will  eat  with  thee." 

He  walked  by  him,  stumbling  and  tumbling  over  his  words. 
"  Lord  .  .  .  thou  wilt  be  my  guest!  .  .  .  thou  art  so  gracious 
unto  me.  Lord  .  .  .  therefore  will  I  give  half  my  goods  to 
the  poor  this  very  day,  because  thou  hast  been  so  good  to  me! 
Never,  never  will  I  cheat  again." 

After  a  brief  midday  rest  he  went  on  his  way  on  the  slowly 
rising  road  that  led  to  the  capital,  his  disciples  half  in  terror, 
half  in  secret  exaltation ;  in  front,  behind,  and  around  him  the 
crowds  of  men  that  knew  and  honoured  him,  burning  with  joy 
and  expectation,  wonderful  visions  in  their  souls. 

In  the  village  just  outside  there  dwelt  a  family;  known  to 
him  from  former  feast  days;  there  he  rested  for  the  last  time. 
An  ass  with  trappings  was  brought  out,  and  on  it  he  pro- 
ceeded. 

The  capital  lay  hid  behind  great  wooded  hills;  but  now,  near 
the  bastions,  the  road  turned  round  the  last  hill,  and  there 
before  them  lay  the  town,  great  and  rich,  with  the  mighty, 
ancient  temple  in  the  midst,  so  vast  that  it  formed  a  town  in 
itself,  with  its  courts  and  cloisters  and  canonries.  He  halted 
and  looked  down  upon  the  town ;  as  he  gazed  and  beheld  the 
houses,  the  temple,  the  castle,  and  heard  the  murmur  of  the 
great  rich  city  rise  to  his  ears,  there  was  borne  in  upon  him 
the  certainty  of  a  tragic  end  to  come.  The  sorrow  of  that  mo- 
ment, and  terror  for  his  dear  home,  overcame  him,  and  fears 
sprang  to  his  eyes.  But  only  for  a  moment.  "  It  is  the  will  of 
God!  His  will  be  done.  If  their  hearts  are  of  stone  mine  is 
of  diamond."  As  he  turned  to  his  followers  his  eves  looked 
as  they  had  done  in  the  north  when  he  drove  from  him  the  evil 
spirits  of  doubt.  They  saw,  and  a  wild  outburst  of  joy  broke 
forth.  Garments  were  spread  upon  the  way  and  the  street  was 
full  of  palm  branches. 

"  The  kingdom  of  Heaven  is  at  hand !  Help,  Lord  on 
high!" 


HOLYLAND  341 

"  This  is  the  kingdom  of  Heaven." 

"  This  is  the  branch  of  the  ancient  royal  stem." 

"A  time  of  joy  in  the  land!     Help,  O  Lord  on  high!  " 

Men  and  women  ran  and  cried  aloud  for  joy;  children  leapt 
and  sang;  crowds  poured  out  of  the  houses  and  from  the 
mighty  courtyards  of  the  temple.  They  had  long  ago  heard  of 
his  coming  from  northern  pilgrims.  Marvellous  was  the  noise 
everywhere.  "  A  time  of  joy  in  the  land.  Help,  O  Lord !  The 
kingdom  is  at  hand!  Help  us!" 

The  clericals  stood  by  with  faces  white  as  death.  Two  of 
them  pressed  their  way  up  to  him,  "  Forbid  this  mad  cry !  " 
He  looked  at  them  in  lofty  scorn,  "  Were  they  silent,  the  walls 
would  cry  out." 

The  whole  town  was  in  an  uproar.  The  governor  and  his 
mercenaries  looked  down  from  the  citadel  in  horror  to  this 
mighty  stirring  of  the  people.  There  were  some  who  asked, 
"  Who  is  he?  Who  is  he?  "  but  the  masses  knew.  "  It  is  the 
pure  and  holy  hero  from  the  north.  He  says  he  is  the  Saviour. 
He  says  that  the  marvel  is  at  hand,  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  is 
at  hand." 

There  stood  the  vast  and  costly  temple  buildings,  old  and 
new ;  in  the  courts  and  in  the  halls  the  gay  turmoil  of  the  mar- 
ket, oxen  and  calves  in  long  rows,  there  a  herd  of  sheep,  there 
birds  in  cages,  there  cartloads  of  grapes.  Imperial  gold  was 
exchanged  for  the  currency  of  the  Church  at  the  shining  coun- 
ter of  the  money-changer.  "  Give  the  best  of  your  money  and 
your  goods.  O  people.  Give  the  sweat  of  your  brows!  Here! 
There  —  God  is  content  with  you;  you  are  great  in  His 
sight." 

Poor  people!  what  a  God  is  this;  thy  priests  lay  upon  the? 
a  double  poverty ;  they  take  away  thy  daily  bread  and  they  cor- 
rupt thy  heart  so  that  thou  canst  not  see  the  truth. 

The  man  from  the  north  knows  another  God ;  he  does  not 
want  hands  full  of  gold,  but  hearts  full  of  courage,  purity, 
and  brotherly  love;  not  churches  and  feasts  and  crowds  of 
priests,  but  right  and  justice  in  the  land. 

The  hero,  the  Saviour,  stood  in  the  midst  of  the  temple  and 
raised  his  clear  voice.  The  table  by  one  of  the  money-changers 
overturned ;  the  market  women  began  to  scream,  sheep  ran 
about,  cages  fell  over.  Terrified  by  his  lofty  presence  and  the 
force  of  his  words,  the  sextons  fled.  "  I  say  unto  you  in  the 


342  HOLYLAND 

name  of  God,  '  My  house  shall  be  a  house  of  prayer.'  Ye  mur- 
derers, ye  robbers,  is  this  your  Hell  ?  " 

The  town  was  filled  with  wild  excitement.  The  deed  was 
monstrous.  The  timid  flee,  the  heavy  tramp  of  the  soldiers 
already  in  their  ears.  The  rest  of  the  crowds  from  the  north 
rejoice.  The  priests  stood  in  impotent  rage  at  the  doors  of 
their  houses.  The  righteous  and  the  just  looked  at  him  with 
earnest  eyes  and  closed  lips.  "  This  means  death  for  thee,  thou 
brave  and  stainless  one." 

The  court  was  now  empty  of  all  worldly  traffic;  the  Church 
was  pure.  The  kingdom  of  God  established.  Pure  hearts  are 
in  unison  with  God,  and  their  hands  lie  in  their  brothers'! 
The  crowd  pressed  close  to  him.  His  soul  exulted.  "  I  shall 
win  them  all,  all!  The  way  is  straight  into  the  joyful  kingdom 
of  heaven.  I  need  not  taste  the  bitterness  of  death.  .  .  ." 

But  in  a  remote  court  the  clericals  were  gathered  together. 
"  He  must  die.  That  is  clear.  But  caution !  the  stupid  people 
are  on  his  side.  He  must  die  .  .  .  that  is  clear." 

For  two  days  he  was  king  of  the  multitude,  ruling  in  the 
courts  and  in  the  halls.  The  temple  was  purified  of  worldly 
things;  the  feet  of  bearers  carrying  out  the  sick  rang  out  clear 
on  the  stone  flags.  Raised  to  something  almost  superhuman 
-in  these  hours  of  spiritual  elevation  by  the  consciousness  of 
seeking  nothing  for  himself,  doing  all  as  the  servant  of  God, 
he  wielded  a  marvellous  power.  Children  stood  in  crowds  be- 
tween the  pillars,  shouting  out  the  cries  by  which  men  had 
summoned  the  Saviour  of  old ;  thousands  lay  at  his  feet ;  fresh 
crowds  listened  to  his  words,  rapt  by  his  wisdom  and  goodness, 
slaking  the  thirst  of  their  famishing  souls.  For  centuries  the 
high  places  of  the  land  had  been  filled  by  mere  shadows  of 
men,  mere  tools  of  corruption;  never  by  a  man  genuine  and 
pure  of  heart  like  this  one. 

"  How  genuine  he  is!  how  pure!  how  simple!  " 

"  Yes,  the  Saviour  must  be  such  a  man." 

"  A  scion  of  the  ancient  kings." 

"  He  is  not  descended  from  a  royal  race." 

"Is  he  not?" 

'  Then  he  is  an  impostor!  " 

"  That  is  not  true ;  look  at  his  face ;  listen  to  his  words  — 
can  that  be  an  impostor  ?  " 


HOLYLAND  343 

Two  elders  of  the  Church  appeared  in  the  gateway,  tall  and 
dignified  men,  and  approached  him.  •"  Make  way  there." 

The  crowd  makes  way. 

They  come  up  to  him  and  say,  "  We  ask  thee  with  what  au- . 
thority  art  thou  come?" 

He  looked  at  them  in  bitter  scorn.  "  Tell  me,  had  the  hero 
who  stood  in  the  stream  a  year  ago,  preaching  conversion,  di- 
vine authority  ?  or  was  he  an  impostor  ?  " 

They  dared  not  say  he  was  an  impostor;  the  people  knew 
him  for  a  pure  and  true  man;  they  shrugged  their  shoulders 
and  went  their  way.  Like  the  clang  of  steel  there  fell  on  their 
ears  the  parable  of  the  evil  tenants,  "  They  killed  the  servants 
whom  the  householder  sent,  and  the  householder  had  one  dear 
son  .  .  .  him  also  they  killed.  I  say  unto  you,  the  Lord  will 
give  the  vineyard  unto  other  husbandmen." 

The  high  priests  were  defeated ;  they  were  far  removed  from 
the  people,  immersed  in  the  world  of  books;  yet  most  of  them 
were  honourable  men  in  the  main.  But  now  the  black  spies, 
the  pious  knaves,  appeared  again ;  how  they  rubbed  their  hands ; 
what  inspiration  sparkled  in  their  eyes!  Inspiration,  indeed. 

"  Master,  we  know  that  thou  art  true  and  carest  not  for 
anyone,  for  thou  regardest  not  the  person  of  men.  .  .  .  Our 
mind  is  troubled,  .  .  .  tell  us,  may  our  pious  people  pay  tribute 
to  the  Emperor?  .  .  .  you  know  the  Emperor  is  a  heretic?" 

What  now?  If  he  said  "  No,  no  tribute,"  the  imperial  tax- 
collectors  would  seize  upon  him,  and  they  would  be  rid  of  him 
so.  If  he  said  "  Yes,"  the  people  would  turn  against  him,  for 
the  tribute  was  thrice  hateful,  because  it  was  heavy,  because 
it  went  to  a  heretic,  and  because  it  went  out  of  the  country. 
If  he  had  been  a  man  of  low  aims!  but  his  ideals  were  of  a  lof- 
tier sort.  "  Ye  hypocrites,  if  ye  carry  the  Emperor's  money  in 
your  pockets,  pay  him  tribute  with  it.  ...  Pay  and  trouble  no 
more  about  it.  Think  of  your  souls  .  .  .  see  that  they  do  the 
will  of  God." 

So  they,  too,  went  their  way. 

In  the  evening  some  of  the  courtiers  from  the  castle  came  to 
him,  a  strange  mixture  of  frivolity  and  piety  in  their  mien, 
such  as  is  characteristic  of  such  men.  They  had  been  discussing 
the  events  of  the  day  at  dinner  and  come  to  the  conclusion 
"  One  must  not  treat  so-called  heroes  too  seriously."  What 
did  such  men  care  for  the  condition  of  the  people?  They  came, 


344  HOLYLAND 

smiling  with  a  kind  of  inebriated  pretence  of  piety.  "  Master, 
in  the  old  chronicles  it  stands,  if  a  man  die,  having  no  children, 
his  brother  shall  marry  his  widow.  Now,  suppose  the  woman 
married  seven  brothers  in  turn,  in  the  resurrection  whose  wife 
shall  she  be?" 

He  answers  shortly  and  sternly,  "  In  the  resurrection  there 
is  no  marrying  nor  giving  in  marriage;  they  are  as  angels  in 
Heaven." 

Then  a  respectable  man  came  up  to  him,  desiring  to  know, 
in  one  word,  for  the  comfort  of  his  own  soul  and  the  souls  of 
all  those  that  stood  there,  what  was  the  mysterious  source  from 
which  as  from  a  spring  this  pure  and  wondrous  life  should 
come.  "  Tell  me,  which  is  the  first  of  all  commandments  ?  " 

The  Saviour  turned  to  him  and  compressed  into  one  word 
all  the  hundred  commandments  of  the  Church.  "  Thou  shalt 
love  God  with  all  thy  heart  and  soul,  and  thy  neighbour  as 
thyself;  that  is  righteousness.  Anything  else  is  the  superfluous 
and  baneful  invention  of  men.  This  is  the  great  and  first 
commandment." 

The  questioner's  eyes  shone.  There  were  many,  many  shin- 
ing eyes  there. 

But  many  indifferent,  too.  "  My  father  and  my  grand- 
father were  good  men,  and  they  contented  themselves  with  the 
ancient  precepts." 

And  many  doubters !  "  It  is  a  dangerous  business ;  who 
knows  what  the  issue  will  be." 

"  I  have  a  house  and  a  small  field." 

And  here  and  there  a  mocker.  "  You  will  not  enter  the 
kingdom  of  Heaven."  "I  don't  want  to;  it's  too  clean." 
"  A  strange  saint,  this."  All  these  men  faltered  and  then 
dropped  out. 

All  the  time  the  clericals  were  busy  spying  and  prying. 
For  two  days  he  had  preached ;  preached  and  conquered.  What 
do  such  conquests  effect?  The  whirligig  of  time  brings  round 
its  revenges.  The  clericals  were  busy.  "  It  is  absurd.  This 
the  Saviour!  Is  he  descended  from  a  royal  race;  is  he  not  a 
craftsman  from  a  corner  of  the  country  where  they  are  all  of 
mixed  descent!  and  all  sorts  of  strangers  come  pouring  across 
the  border." 

He  heard  the  conflict;  he  saw  that  all  was  lost  if  he  could 
not  conquer  here,  He  told  them  it  did  not  stand  in  the  sacred 


HOLYLAND  345 

books  that  the  Saviour  must  be  of  royal  race;  but  words  were 
vain ;  this  belief  was  fixed  firmly  in  their  minds.  He  had  noth- 
ing to  give  to  the  animal  instincts  of  men;  there  was  nothing 
in  his  hands  but  godliness,  purity,  and  truth,  and  this  will  not 
satisfy  a  people,  not  even  for  three  days. 

And  the  angels  of  the  Lord  came  not. 

They  are  busy  compounding  reason  and  folly,  truth  and 
misery,  fear  and  blood ;  and  gradually  they  conquer.  He  does 
not  quail.  More  and  more  clearly  he  sees  that  defeat  must 
come;  he  only  grows  firmer,  more  unbending;  in  his  soul  there 
grew,  stronger  and  stronger,  the  mystic  faith.  "  God  is  yet 
with  me."  He  sought  in  the  old  books  for  all  that  could 
strengthen  that  proud  faith  in  the  midst  of  the  terrors  that  lay 
round  him  like  the  terrible  beasts  of  darkness.  If  death  were 
to  come,  the  books  foretold  resurrection  and  return;  if  not  in 
three  days,  later;  return  with  all  the  might  of  God!  Then 
the  kingdom  of  Heaven!  He  must  believe,  or  he  could  not 
bear  the  burden.  Thank  Heaven  for  the  words  of  the  books. 

That  evening,  as  he  left  the  temple  for  the  last  time,  his 
dispirited  disciples  looked  at  him  with  anxiety  in  their  eyes. 
"  Teacher,  look  at  these  mighty  stone  walls ;  they  have  stood 
for  a  thousand  years;  wilt  thou,  alone,  attack  them?" 

Then  he  revealed  to  them  the  picture  of  the  future  outlined 
by  his  tortured  soul. 

"  When  I  am  dead  then  shall  be  bitter  travail  in  the  land. 
Again  and  again  will  the  ancient  foes  attack  the  land  from 
without,  and  false  beliefs  rend  it  within ;  children  will  rise 
against  their  parents;  there  shall  be  division  between  brother 
and  sister.  And  all  this  shall  be  as  a  sign  of  the  coming  of 
the  kingdom  of  Heaven  upon  earth.  The  son  of  man  shall 
come  with  might  and  glory  from  heaven  unto  earth  and 
bring  to  pass  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  upon  earth.  Be  not 
afraid!  Endure!  I  shall  return." 

And  they  asked  him,  trembling,  "  When  shall  these  things 
be?" 

To  that  he  can  give  no  answer.  "  It  shall  be  in  your  life- 
time. Suddenly.  Be  on  the  watch.  Watch  and  pray!" 

And  while  he  brooded  and  wrestled  with  his  own  soul  — 
"Be  strong!  quail  not  —  that  is  to  betray  thy  Father  in 
Heaven,"  strengthening  his  soul  with  wondrous  dreams  of  the 


346  HOLYLAND 

future  —  the  clericals  were  busy  plotting  for  his  speedy  des- 
truction. 

He  had  the  true  hero's  belief  in  all  mankind,  and  among 
the  disciples  there  was  one  who  was  traitrous  and  weak. 
WJien  he  saw  that  things  were  going  ill  in  the  capital,  the  little 
faith  and  courage  he  had  had  deserted  him,  and  "  his  opinions 
changed ;  "  "  scales  seemed  to  fall  from  his  eyes,"  and  vanity 
reinforced  the  charge.  He  went  to  the  men  of  darkness. 
"  Give  me  so  much,"  he  said,  "  and  to-morrow  night  I  will 
lead  you  to  a  place  where  you  can  capture  him  without  diffi- 
culty." 

They  listened  to  him  without  shame;  no  one  leapt  to  his 
feet  and  said,  "  Away  with  the  rascal ;  I  cannot  bear  to  look 
upon  him."  After  a  brief  discussion  they  decided  on  doing 
the  deed  —  to-day.  No  one  came  forward  in  his  defence ;  no 
one  cried  out  in  his  anxiety;  not  one  of  these  shadows  had  the 
least  suspicion  of  what  they  were  destroying;  they  merely 
stared  with  the  stupid  eyes  of  fishes  at  the  golden  crown  which 
had  fallen  into  their  pond.  All  were  rotten  to  the  core. 
Among  all  these  ghosts  the  appointed  victim  alone  had  the 
breath  of  life  in  his  frame. 

Evening  came.  The  behaviour  of  the  enemy  and  the  disap- 
pearance of  the  scoundrel  had  warned  the  hero  and  his  disci- 
ples to  expect  the  attack  that  night. 

For  the  last  time  he  sat  down  to  table  with  his  disciples.  It 
was  an  ancient  custom  to  keep  this  day  as  a  feast,  with  all  the 
means  at  the  householders'  disposal.  He  passed  round  lamb's- 
flesh,  broken  bread,  and  wine  in  cups,  while  offering  thanks  in 
a  short  prayer,  in  which  he  recalled  the  gloom  of  past  times 
when  God  had  stood  by  them  as  their  ally. 

At  first  he  spoke  with  some  sadness  of  his  pleasure  in  having 
been  permitted  by  his  enemies  to  enjoy  the  hour  of  peace  in  the 
celebration  of  this  ancient  custom.  But  when  the  first  wine 
cup  went  round  the  horror  of  his  imminent  doom  rose  hideous 
before  him ;  looking  at  them  he  said  sadly,  "  I  shall  not  drink 
wine  with  you  again ;  but  when  my  Father's  kingdom  comes 
we  will  drink  together  thus  in  a  pure  and  blessed  land." 
Listen!  is  that  the  soldiers'  feet?  Murmuring  a  grace  he  broke 
the  bread,  terror  in  his  heart.  '  Thus  it  shall  be  with  my 
body;  broken  even  thus."  Once  more  the  red  wine  flowed  into 
the  cup;  he  saw  his  own  blood  flow,  and  thinking  of  the  old 


H'OLYLAND  347 

alliance  with  God,  said,  "  I  give  my  blood  that  God  may  make 
a  new  and  stronger  alliance  with  my  people."  They  rose  from 
the  meal  and  went  out  into  the  night.  Listen  —  is  that  the 
tramp  of  soldiers  in  the  street? 

He  took  the  arm  of  his  hot-headed  disciple  and  said  to  him 
in  a  low,  quick  voice,  "  Listen;  I  know  that  the  devil  will  try  to 
tempt  you  from  my  side.  I  have  prayed  God  earnestly  that 
thou,  the  bravest  of  all,  mayst  not  lose  thy  faith  in  me  and  my 
return.  If  thou  recoverest  from  thy  terror,  strengthen  thy 
brethren." 

The  hot-head  boasted  loudly,  "I?  terror?  I  am  ready,  now, 
this  moment,  to  go  with  thee  to  imprisonment  and  death." 

Then  the  hero  said,  "  This  very  night,  before  cock  crow, 
thou  wilt  desert  me." 

His  soul  quailed  as  he  went  on;  the  joy  of  the  past  stood 
out  in  bitter  contrast  to  the  sorrow  of  the  present.  "  Do  you 
remember  how  I  sent  ye  forth,  in  the  north?  Did  ye  ever 
want  for  anything?  " 

They  all  shook  their  heads.     "  No,  never." 

"  But  now !    Think ;  ye  must  be  armed  like  soldiers." 

"  Two  of  us  have  swords."  But  thus  they  turned  off  on  that 
false  track  on  which  he  must  not  stray,  however,  and  sorely 
his  soul  longed  for  safety.  He  broke  off  quickly.  "  Enough 
of  that." 

They  came  into  an  orchard  and  weariness  came  over  most 
of  them.  They  threw  themselves  down  on  the  grass  and  slept. 
Three  of  the  most  faithful  went  on  with  him;  but  they,  too, 
were  sorrowful  and  weary,  and  sank  down. 

A  feeling  of  utter  desolation  came  over  him  and  he  begged 
them,  "  My  soul  is  exceeding  sorrowful ;  even  unto  death ; 
abide  with  me."  They  lay  resting  on  their  elbows,  sorrowful 
and  weary,  unable  to  say  anything.  His  weary,  lonely  soul 
turned  from  men  to  the  Eternal  Power,  "  Oh,  my  Father,  if 
it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  away  from  me!  nevertheless,  not 
as  I  will,  but  as  Thou  wilt." 

Then  turning  to  his  friends,  "  I  beg  ye,  watch  with  me  .  .  . 
thou,  my  faithful  one,  wilt  thou  not  watch  with  me?" 

Again  he  turned  from  them  to  the  Eternal,  kneeling  and 
praying.  "  If  it  be  possible  .  .  .  not  my  will,  but  Thine.  .  .  . 
Father,  is  it  not  possible?" 

It  is  not  possible;  the  unfathomable  law  of  creation  has  de- 


348  HOLYLAND 

creed  for  man  death  and  sorrow;  progress  is  only  gained  by 
the  sufferings  of  the  best  among  mankind. 

He  knew  it,  and  took  his  trembling  soul  in  both  his  hands. 
"  Not  my  will,  but  Thine." 

So  he  lay  half  the  night  through.  And  the  report  is  true 
that  he  found  consolation. 

Then  came  the  clang  of  arms.  Amid  the  smoke  of  the 
torches  stood  the  betrayer.  .  .  .  The  swords  flashed.  The 
disciples  fled. 

They  led  him  into  the  town  in  their  midst,  into  the  court  of 
the  high  priest.  And  in  the  courtyard  soldiers  sat  and  lounged 
around  the  fire;  servants  came  and  went;  all  kinds  of  miserable 
wretches,  dependents  of  the  Church,  had  gathered  together 
there  by  order.  In  the  half  darkness,  at  one  side  of  the  fire, 
a  short  colloquy  went  on,  with  much  pointing  of  fingers. 

"  Thou  wast  with  him." 

"I  ...  what  nonsense !  " 

"  Thy  speech  betrayeth  thee.     Thou  art  from  the  north." 

"  May  I  be  accursed.  ...  I  have  never  seen  him  in  my 
life."  He  stood  there,  pale  as  death,  with  trembling  hands. 
The  high  priests  went  by.  He  slunk  out;  reaching  the  gate  in 
safety  he  went  out  into  the  dark  street  and  wept  bitterly. 

Morning  comes,  and  the  elders  of  the  Church  assemble.  The 
affair  has  been  cunningly  contrived ;  make  him  a  political  crim- 
inal and  he  falls  into  the  hands  of  the  civil  power.  '  The 
State  is  our  bailiff;  its  justice  is  speedy."  They  asked  him, 
therefore,  one  question  only,  "  Are  you  the  Saviour,  the  king  of 
the  people?  " 

The  hero  prisoner  raised  his  head ;  in  those  pure  eyes  there 
burned  a  light  that  was  not  of  this  world.  "  I  am  he!  and  ye 
shall  see  me  the  Saviour,  on  the  Almighty's  right  hand,  de- 
scended upon  earth  in  a  cloud  from  Heaven."  That  was 
enough. 

Day  had  broken.  He  was  handed  over  to  the  watch  and 
led  into  the  imperial  office. 

The  whole  town  was  awake;  crowds  filled  the  streets.  Many 
a  fist  was  clenched ;  angry  tears  stood  in  many  an  eye ;  but  the 
gate  closed  behind  him ;  he  was  fallen  into  hard-hands  of  fearful 
strength. 

He  was  accused  before  the  governor  as  a  political  offender. 
The  governor,  an  elderly  man,  had  seen  strange  customs  in 


HOLYLAND  349 

many  lands,  and  accommodated  himself  readily  enough  to  them 
all ;  like  many  men  in  high  office,  he  had  either  quite  forgotten, 
or  never  known,  any  respect  for  individual  consciences.  He 
looked  at  the  accused  before  him  and  said,  "  You  are  the  king 
of  this  people?  " 

"  You  are  right." 

The  governor  looked  at  him  again.  "  He  seems  to  me  a 
harmless  creature ;  I  shall  let  him  go." 

But  the  pious  rabble  that  stood  crowded  behind  the  pillars 
cried,  "  Crucify  him,  crucify  him!  " 

This  was  the  imperial  punishment  for  treason.  The  con- 
demned was  bound  or  nailed  hand  and  foot  to  an  upright 
stake,  and  left  to  hang  there  till  he  died.  Many  thousands  had 
perished  thus. 

The  most  important  dignitary  of  the  Church  went  up  and 
spoke  in  low  tones  to  the  governor.  He  was  really  a  traitor; 
he  had  a  great  following,  especially  in  the  north;  if  he  let  the 
man  go  ...  the  Emperor  was  said  to  be  very  sensitive  on 
the  question  of  treason.  .  .  .  The  hint  was  understood.  The 
governor's  advancement  came  before  justice.  The  hero  from 
the  north  was  condemned  as  a  revolutionary  and  pretender  by 
the  law  of  the  State  to  be  scourged  and  then  bound  to  a  stake 
until  he  died. 

The  blows  of  the  scourge  cut  his  flesh  to  the  bone;  he  en- 
dured the  extremity  of  physical  and  spiritual  anguish.  His 
strength  was  absolutely  exhausted  when  the  blows  ceased;  he 
could  not  even  support  the  stake  which  he  had  to  carry  to 
the  place  of  execution ;  a  man  who  happened  to  be  by  had  to 
carry  it  for  him.  Two  men  condemned  to  the  same  sentence 
for  street  robbery,  were  led  with  him  to  the  place  of  execution. 

They  stripped  him  on  the  bare  hillside  above  the  town,  laid 
him  down  and  fastened  him  to  the  stake.  Powerful  hands 
seized  him  and  raised  him  up.  The  soldiers  offered  him  of 
their  drink,  but  he  did  not  take  it ;  he  was  too  weak.  Some  of 
the  scribes  and  some  people  in  the  mob  mocked  at  the  dying 
man,  and  the  two  thieves  also,  "  Thou  art  the  king!  help  thyself, 
then !  "  No  one  knows  what  passed  within  him.  He  said  no 
more.  To  the  last  he  must  have  cherished  a  faint  hope  that  his 
Father  in  Heaven  would  spare  him  the  crowning  bitterness. 
But  no  ten  thousand  angels  came.  Not  one  came.  Not  one 
of  his  disciples,  not  one  of  his  relations  was  there.  After  he 


350  HOLYLAND 

had  hung  there  a  few  hours  he  died  of  loss  of  blood  and 
suffocation. 

Such  was  his  life. 

Such  was  his  death. 

He  was  the  fairest  of  the  children  of  men. 

The  scattered  disciples  had  fled  in  twos  and  threes  to  the 
north  to  save  their  lives.  Arrived  there,  terror-stricken  and  ex- 
hausted, they  began  cautiously  to  speak  of  him.  He  had  cer- 
tainly believed,  he  had  said  to  them  definitely,  "  I  shall  re- 
turn! soon!  on  the  third  day!  I  tell  you,  I  shall  return,  clad 
in  divine  authority." 

Three  days  .  .  .  eight  .  .  .  went  by.     He  did  not  come. 

"  He  must  come.  He  cannot  lie;  he  cannot  be  mistaken. 
It  is  quite  impossible  that  any  grave,  however  deep,  should  hold 
such  a  hero  in.  How  he  loved  God!  How  he  trusted  Him! 
Did  he  not  say,  '  Would  a  mortal  father  give  the  child,  that 
asked  him  for  bread,  a  stone?  and  should  the  Almighty,  Whom 
he  trusted  so,  give  him  a  stone?'  How  he  loved  us!  What 
a  pure  and  gracious  being  he  was;  how  he  uplifted  our  hearts. 
Oh,  Lord,  what  can  we  do  without  thee?  Return,  O 
Saviour,  bring  to  pass  the  Heavenly  Kingdom!  We  need 
thee  so." 

"  He  must  return,"  said  the  old  chronicles.  "  He  must 
return,"  whispered  men,  looking  around  them  with  yearning 
eyes.  "  He  must  return,"  whispered  the  lake  and  the  woods 
and  the  wind  there  where  he  had  been  only  fourteen  days 
ago.  "  I  must  see  him  again,"  said  Peter,  who  had  denied 
him,  "  or  I  cannot  live." 

"Listen!     Did  you  see  anything,  Peter?" 

Next  day  the  first  rumour  arose.  In  the  evening  Peter  had 
seen  him  walking  along  the  beach,  where  he  had  walked  so 
often;  there  in  the  darkness  he  had  stood,  a  friendly  spirit,  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  him. 

The  next  day  a  new  rumour  spread  from  village  to  village. 
His  old  friends,  the  fishers,  had  been  sitting  on  the  beach 
that  evening  eating  their  supper  of  bread  and  fish  round  the 
coke  fire.  The  fire  blazed,  the  sea  roared,  the  stars  shone  in 
the  sky,  the  night  folded  them  in  her  giant  arms,  and  they 
spoke  of  him.  "  Do  you  remember  ?  Then  .  .  .  yes,  and  that 
other  time  .  .  .  what  truth  he  had;  what  understanding  .  .  . 


HOLYLAND  351 

and  how  good  he  always  was  ...  a  dear  gracious  being.  .  .  . 
Do  you  remember  how  we  sat  here  .  .  .  here  on  the  beach 
...  at  our  evening  meal  round  the  fire,  the  fire  blazing  as 
it  is  now  and  the  sea  roaring;  and  he  sat  among  us  and  prayed 
in  his  dear  voice  ?  .  .  .  Oh,  God.  .  .  .  Look,  then !  .  .  .  Did 
you  see?  I  have  seen  him!  He  stood  there  just  behind  you!  " 

Another  evening  three  of  his  disciples  were  walking  in  the 
darkness  on  a  lonely  road  leading  to  the  south,  in  deep  converse 
about  him ;  they  wandered  on  and  on,  children  of  an  age  where 
all  the  world  was  an  enchanted  garden  and  the  night  the  home 
of  mystery ;  the  wounds  of  their  souls  burned,  their  love  to  the 
wonderful  man  glowed.  .  .  .  "And  they  saw  him?  Was  it 
really  he?  He  lives?  He  lives!  Where  is  he  now?  It  was 
about  this  time  that  they  saw  him;  what  does  he  look  like? 
Dear,  they  said,  and  shining  .  .  .  yes,  dear  and  shining  .  .  . 
perhaps  he  is  with  us,  invisible  .  .  .  suddenly  there  comes  a 
flash  of  light,  and  he  stands  there  by  the  tree.  .  .  .  Did  you  see 
anything?  Oh  .  .  .  calm  your  fevered  heart!  .  .  ." 

They  came  home  with  burning  eyes ;  they  had  seen  him.  "  He 
went  past  us  in  the  darkness  and  disappeared." 

There  was  no  stopping  now. 

Since  waking  eyes  might  not  behold  him,  the  yearning  eyes 
of  faith,  shining  with  passionate  love,  saw  him.  Since  he 
came  not  in  the  clear  light  of  day  they  saw  his  apparition  in 
the  darkness. 

Weeks  went  by.  ...  Since  he  came  not  in  his  glory  he 
could  not  hold  his  place  as  a  wandering  light;  the  apparitions 
faded  away  like  mirages  in  a  few  weeks.  But  the  legends  of 
the  apparitions  grew,  expanding  what  had  been  seen. 

Years  went  by;  he  never  came;  they  still  spoke  of  him.  He 
had  stirred  their  hearts. 

Gradually  there  collected  among  the  fisher  folk  and  the 
moor  dwellers  a  band  of  believers  who  accepted  him  as  the 
Saviour  and  hoped  daily,  with  glowing  faith,  for  the  day  of 
his  return  to  bring  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven. 

Years  went  by.  The  band  of  those  who  spoke  of  him  and 
believed  in  his  return,  grew,  extending  as  far  as  the  capital, 
and  from  there,  through  holiday  visitors,  to  their  compatriots 
in  the  great  imperial  city,  including  every  country  and  every 
kind  of  superstition:  Syrians  and  Egyptians,  German  soldiers 
and  Greek  workmen.  They  painted  and  decorated  the  story  of 


352  HOLYLAND 

the  Saviour's  life.  These  children  of  a  wild  and  restless  age 
dwelt  in  an  enchanted  world;  when  two  or  three  were  gath- 
ered together  they  whispered  the  legends  of  his  life  with  beam- 
ing eyes. 

And  so  the  brave  and  simple  life  became  more  and  more 
marvellous. 

"  I  have  been  told  by  someone  who  heard  it  from  one  of 
the  disciples  that  he  walked  upon  the  sea." 

"  Yes,  and  have  you  heard  the  story  of  how  he  commanded 
the  storm  ?  " 

"  Have  you  heard  —  I  was  told  by  someone  who  came  from 
the  place  —  that  once  four  thousand  people  followed  him  across 
the  moors?  And  he  fed  them  all,  just  think,  with  seven 
loaves!" 

"  No;  there  were  five  thousand  people,  and  he  had  five 
loaves;  and  afterwards  they  collected  twelve  baskets  of  frag- 
ments." 

"  He  raised  a  man  from  the  dead." 

"  The  greatest  is  that  he  himself  rose  from  the  dead." 

"  Yes,  that  is  certain ;  he  appeared  to  all  his  disciples." 

'  The  watch  over  the  tomb  was  broken  up." 

"  He  ate  and  drank  with  them.    They  ate  fish." 

"  Once  when  I  was  at  home  for  a  feast  I  heard  that  he  had 
appeared  to  five  hundred  people  at  once." 

"  He  rose  up  to  Heaven  before  their  eyes." 

'To  Heaven?  What  will  he  do  there?  He  is  going  to 
establish  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  upon  earth." 

"  Yes,  he  will  return.     He  has  only  gone  for  a  time." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  he  is  in  Heaven  now ;  else  he  was  still  among 
us,  for  he  certainly  rose  from  the  dead." 

All  that  they  had  desired  in  vain  from  the  son  of  man, 
heavenly  descent,  a  royal  lineage,  supernatural  marvels,  resur- 
rection :  all  this  was  now  attributed  to  him  by  passionate  love, 
poetic  fancy,  and  religious  longing. 

So  they  spoke  and  waited. 

One  year  after  another  passed.  Thev  prayed  as  he  had 
taught  them  to  their  Heavenly  Father,  "  Thy  kingdom  come ;  " 
they  lived  pure  lives  and  helped  one  another,  happy  in  their 
longing. 

Some  of  the  disciples  died. 

And  yet  he  had  said,  "  I  shall  return  in  your  lifetime." 


HOLYLAND  353 

They  waited  and  waited. 

He  did  not  come. 

And  because  he  did  not  come  as  he  had  promised  there  was 
a  danger  that  his  followers  might  remain  a  narrow  national 
sect;  that  his  life  had  been  lived  in  vain  and  would  be  for- 
gotten ;  that  the  salvation  of  humanity,  the  glorious  purpose  for 
which  he  had  died,  might  be  lost.  There  was  a  danger  that 
this  gracious  tender  personality  might  float  away  like  a  perfume 
that  is  shed. 

But  a  man  of  might  arose,  a  strange,  strong  man,  to  be  his 
preserver  and  his  herald. 

Not  far  from  his  home  there  dwelt  a  man  of  the  same  race, 
a  Nationalist  and  clerical;  a  man  of  deep  learning,  wide  and 
general  education  and  experience  and  keen  intellect.  Yet  he 
was  diseased,  through  and  through.  In  many  passages  in  his 
letters  to  his  friends  he  expounded  the  nature  of  his  disease; 
he  was  tortured  by  nervous  attacks,  in  which  life  appeared  a 
scene  of  misery,  horror  and  death,  attacks  aggravated  at  times 
to  epileptic  fits,  during  which  he  saw  in  a  trance  wondrous 
visions  of  heavenly  glory  and  beauty.  He  was  a  little  younger 
than  the  hero  of  the  north  and  had  never  seen  him. 

With  some  of  the  educated  men  of  his  time  and  country  he 
shared  a  very  peculiar  faith ;  that  time  of  disturbance  suggested 
strange  theories  to  imaginative  minds.  His  belief,  passionately 
and  ardently  held,  was  briefly  as  follows:  God,  in  the  fulness 
of  His  eternal  might,  will  send  down  from  the  heavenly  re- 
gions the  Saviour,  an  eternal  and  heavenly  being.  This  eternal 
and  heavenly  being,  who  had  been  God  s  right  hand  in  the 
creation  of  the  world,  greater  and  more  glorious  than  the  an- 
gels of  God,  will  conceal  his  heavenly  majesty  in  a  human  form. 
As  the  Saviour  he  will  fight  the  evil  men  and  spirits  that  pos- 
sess this  wicked  world ;  will  conquer  them  or  perish.  At  the 
last  he  will  conquer  with  the  aid  of  God  and  His  angels  and 
free  mankind  from  all  evil.  And  this  eternal  heavenly  being 
is  coming  soon ;  it  must  be  soon.  How  full  my  life  and  the 
lives  of  all  men  are  of  misery,  sorrow  and  distress.  It  may 
come  any  day.  Heavenly  being!  gracious  vision!  Saviour! 
The  Kingdom  of  Heaven!  come,  come;  the  world  is  ripe. 

When  this  man,  holding  this  faith,  heard  that  there  was  a 
sect  in  the  north  which  maintained  that  the  Saviour  had  already 
appeared  on  earth  in  the  guise  of  a  carpenter,  that  he  had  been 


354  HOLYLAND 

denied  and  killed  by  the  pious  authorities  of  the  Church,  but 
had  risen  again  and  would  soon  return,  he  was  consumed  by 
excitement  and  rage.  It  was  impossible.  His  Church  had  de- 
nied the  holy  one  sent  by  God?  The  righteous  in  the  land 
had  not  recognised  the  heavenly  being?  .  .  .  Calling  for  as- 
sistance from  the  State  he  hunted  them  down  and  persecuted 
them  zealously. 

But  his  faith  gave  him  no  peace;  it  was  cold  and  meaning- 
less ;  the  mere  skeleton  of  a  faith,  without  the  flesh  and  blood 
of  life.  Sick  in  mind  and  body  he  longed  for  this  life.  "  Lord, 
send  the  heavenly  being  soon !  Lord,  how  will  he  appear  when 
he  comes?  How  will  he  come?" 

Pondering  one  day  over  the  "  false  Saviour,"  he  went  along 
a  lonely  road,  brooding  in  passionate  aspiration.  "  Gracious 
and  pure  they  say  he  was ;  unspeakably  dear ;  he  wanted  men  to 
be  children  of  God ;  away  with  the  external  forms  of  righteous- 
ness. .  .  .  Yes,  that  is  true ;  such  are  his  people.  Their 
trust  in  God  is  wonderful,  the  joyful  sense  of  being  His  chil- 
dren, with  which  they  endure  all  that  I  lay  upon  them.  And 
they  are  so  gentle,  so  friendly  to  one  another.  They  have  all, 
all  that  my  poor  soul  yearns  for  in  vain.  .  .  .  He  was  slain 
and  arose  from  the  dead  .  .  .  freed  from  this  misery  of  flesh. 
.  .  .  Their  eyes  have  looked  upon  him  ...  if  it  were  true? 
Was  he  really  the  Saviour?  .  .  .  Oh,  if  he  would  only  show 
himself  to  me!  If  I  could  see  him,  risen,  a  denizen  of  Heaven! 
Then  I  should  be  free  from  the  burden  of  my  body,  then  I 
should  stand,  uplifted,  free  and  blissful  close  to  the  knees  of 
God.  ...  Oh,  then!  .  .  ." 

And,  behold!  as  he  went  on,  in  an  agony  of  indecision,  one 
of  his  physical  and  spiritual  attacks  came  upon  him,  and  he  saw 
the  Saviour  standing  in  the  radiant  glow  of  heavenly  beauty 
and  glory. 

From  this  hour  on  he  devoted  himself  with  restless  energy 
to  preaching  the  hero.  "  He  has  appeared  to  me ;  he  is  the 
Saviour."  And  he  decked  the  hero,  the  true  and  simple  son 
of  man,  with  all  the  marvellous  attributes  of  his  imaginative 
faith.  He  was  the  eternal  Godhead,  the  great  eternal  wonder 
of  the  world.  He  overlaid  the  humble  simplicity  of  the  son 
of  man  with  sevenfold  brocade,  glittering  and  heavy. 

The  simple  moor  folk  had  known  his  mother  and  father,  had 
sat  at  table  with  him,  seen  him  in  laughter  and  tears,  in  sick- 


HOLYLAND  355 

ness  and  health;  they  had  seen  him  doubtful  and  uncertain, 
stirred  to  annoyance  and  anger.  He  had  walked  with  them 
the  long  sandy  ways  to  the  town;  they  knew  that  he  was  not 
the  creator  of  the  world,  but  a  man  like  themselves. 

This  man,  his  poet's  eye  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling,  had  never 
seen  him;  he  knew  little  of  his  life,  and  was  little  interested 
in  it;  he  saw  in  him  only  the  wonder  of  the  world,  dead  and 
risen  from  the  dead. 

He  cried,  "Awake!  awake!  God  has  been  in  the  world! 
Awake!  He  comes  ...  he  comes!  Make  haste!  ...  to- 
morrow or  the  day  after  to-morrow  he  will  come  down  from 
Heaven  and  pass  judgment." 

His  fiery  eloquence  not  only  persuaded  the  disciples  and 
even  the  ancient  followers;  it  convinced  others,  fellow  country- 
men and  strangers.  People  longed  for  a  great  and  conquering 
faith  to  harmonise  their  view  of  the  world  and  co-ordinate  its 
elements.  In  him  gifted,  courageous  and  inspired  by  a  passion- 
ate love  of  right,  his  new  belief  and  love  glowed  like  some 
divine  frenzy.  His  imagination  knew  no  bounds ;  he  knew 
the  secret  plans  of  God,  the  creation  of  the  world,  judgment 
to  come  —  nothing  was  concealed  from  him.  He  erected  a 
marvellous  edifice  of  thought,  strongly  built  and  inter-pene- 
trated with  the  fiery  breath  of  love,  that  reached  up  from  the 
foundations  of  Hell  through  the  vaults  of  death,  up  to  and 
even  above  the  arch  of  the  seventh  heaven. 

And  so  the  noble  simplicity  of  the  human  picture  disap- 
peared. The  true  man,  striving  and  fighting  upwards  through 
pain,  was  distorted  into  the  eternal  wonder  of  the  world.  The 
man  who  passionately  loved  his  poor  people  and  died  for  them 
in  spite  of  hopes  betrayed  became  the  eternal  Redeemer  of  man- 
kind yet  to  be.  His  words,  "  these  are  by  nature  the  children 
of  God ;  they  can  do  His  will,  if  they  will  it  also,"  were  twisted 
to  "  these  are  corrupt  by  nature,  powerless,  the  children  of  the 
devil;  they  only  reach  God  by  the  help  of  a  wonder."  His 
words,  "  Feel  thyself  the  child  of  God !  Do  the  will  of  God ! 
Who  so  doeth  the  will  of  God  is  blessed,"  became,  "  Do  this; 
but  only  if  you  believe  also  that  the  Son  of  God  has  died  for 
you,  are  you  blessed."  His  hope  "  that  he  should  soon  return 
to  erect  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  upon  earth  "  became  the  belief 
"  that  he  would  appear  again  as  the  Eternal  Judge  of  all  men, 
living  and  dead." 


356  HOLYLAND 

Only  in  one  thing  did  he  keep  close  to  the  pure  and  lofty 
son  of  man;  like  him  he  said  that  love  of  God  and  man  came 
first  of  all. 

He  preached  sermons  glowing  with  passionate  love  of  the 
eternal,  heavenly  being,  and  of  God;  and  of  the  men  whom  he 
so  longed  to  save.  He  endured  danger  and  trouble,  mockery 
and  abuse.  For  all  his  strangeness,  he  was  a  great  and  noble- 
minded  man;  and  his  courage  was  heroic.  Up  to  the  hour  of 
his  death  he  preached,  "The  Eternal  One  cometh!  He  com- 
eth!  and  judgment  with  him!" 

But  he  came  not. 

He  came  not. 

Then  the  faithful  accepted  the  conclusion  that  the  time 
might  still  be  far  away.  They  took  life  more  easily;  abandon- 
ing the  passionate  belief  that  he  might  return  every  moment 
they  looked  forward  to  the  calm  hope,  "  After  death  we  shall 
come  to  him  and  he  will  have  mercy  upon  us." 

In  such  a  creed  there  was  room  for  priests  once  more;  they 
gradually  forced  themselves  between  the  "  Divine  Redeemer  " 
and  men ;  the  old  juggling  with  human  fears  and  human  indo- 
lence began  again ;  once  more  the  easy  priest  grew  sleek  and 
rich.  It  all  was  as  it  had  been  when  the  hero  arose.  They 
collected  the  old  chronicles  over  which  he  had  so  brooded  in 
his  youth;  they  gathered  together  four  wonderful  accounts  of 
his  life,  and  the  epistles  of  his  great  followers,  and  a  few  other 
documents  dealing  with  him;  and  bound  up  all  these  contra- 
dictory and  discordant  stories  in  a  book,  which  they  called  "  the 
Holy  Writ,"  a  book  which  they  said,  and  most  people  believed 
it,  had  been  written  under  the  eyes  of  God  Himself;  a  book 
which  contained  no  error,  admitted  no  contradiction. 

The  faith  thus  twice  modified  was  both  comforting  and  at- 
tractive. It  gained  more  and  more  adherents.  Even  the  rich 
and  powerful  found  it  tolerable,  and  this  increase  in  numbers 
brought  the  great  mass  of  the  indifferent,  so  that  the  faith  be- 
came the  fashion  and  was  accepted  as  the  religion  of  the  State. 

Centuries  passed.  Priests  and  Synods  amended  and  invented. 
Legends  arose;  miracles,  effected  by  old  and  new  saints, Were 
reported  and  recorded.  Great  collections  of  laws  were  com- 
piled. All  these  reports,  these  legends  of  the  saints,  these  com- 
pilations were  added  to  the  Holy  Writ.  The  priests'  corn  was 


HOLYLAND  357 

in  flower;  its  fragrance  filled  the  warm  summer  day  far  and 
wide.  Human  ingenuity  was  constantly  at  work  upon  the 
ancient  Holy  Writ,  which  was  itself  as  much  forgotten  as  if 
they  thought  that  no  one  would  ever  trouble  about  it  again. 
In  the  end,  time,  human  ingenuity  and  human  ambition  made  a 
cold  and  unreal  abstraction  out  of  the  good  countryman,  the 
brave  hero  who  lived  the  life  of  a  true  and  upright  man :  a  man 
who  cherished  the  pure  and  wonderful  faith  of  a  child,  and 
died  in  lonely  despair;  an  abstraction,  that  sat  above  the  clouds 
ruling  the  world  in  a  garment  of  stiff  gold.  Beside  him  sat  his 
mother,  almost  greater  than  he  was;  his  poor,  foolish  mother! 
around  him,  clad  in  robes  of  silk,  bearing  themselves  with  pride 
and  dignity,  stood  the  wise  old  peasants  who  had  once  gone 
barefoot  with  him  over  the  sands. 

The  eternal  might  is  perpetually  at  work,  working  among 
men  as  much  as  among  the  stars  or  on  the  ocean. 

So  it  happened  that  among  the  German  people  a  man  arose: 
a  true  German,  full  of  passionate  sincerity  and  vigorous  life, 
of  native  power  and  wide  education.  As  he  grew  to  manhood 
he  sought  to  set  his  soul  in  its  true  relation  to  the  eternal 
might.  He  cast  into  the  mud  the  mass  of  stupid  contradictions 
with  which  the  priests  had  overlaid  the  Holy  Writ,  and  sat 
down  to  study  the  Holy  Writ  itself.  The  trumpet  tones  of 
Paul,  that  strange  apostle,  rang  out  clear  and  full;  he  heard 
him  only.  He  did  not  wholly  understand  his  frenzied  vehe- 
mence; he  adapted  what  he  said.  'He  took  as  the  kernel  of  his 
faith  the  words,  "  Man  is  just  and  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God 
through  his  faith  in  the  death  and  merits  of  the  son  of  God." 

His  piety  and  the  courage  with  which  he  upheld  his  faith 
won  for  him  half  his  countrymen.  The  northern  part  of 
Germany  and  the  other  Germanic  races,  in  whose  hands  lies 
the  future  of  the  world,  cast  away  the  accursed  collection  of 
writings;  their  faith  in  the  "Word  of  God,"  the  "  doctrine  of 
the  Church,"  as  they  called  it,  gave  them  a  time  of  satisfaction. 

It  could  not  last;  not  more  than  three  hundred  years  did 
their  faith  hold  them. 

The  so-called  "  Word  of  God  "  or  "  doctrine  of  the 
Church"  was  founded  on  an  error;  it  was  internally  false  to 
history  and  to  morality,  in  that  it  taught  that  the  simple  hero 
was  merely  the  outward  appearance  which  concealed  the  pres- 


358  HOLYLAND 

ence  in  the  world  of  an  heavenly  eternally  existent  being,  the 
son  of  God  and  the  creator  of  the  world.  This  error  made  the 
doctrine  based  upon  it  empty,  hard  and  unreal.  And  the  more 
empty  and  hard  it  grew  the  more  it  appealed  to  mediocrities, 
and  the  more  it  was  regarded  as  immutable.  Narrow-minded 
fools  finally  declared  "  The  word  of  God  and  Luther's  teach- 
ing shall  never  pass  away." 

And  so  in  the  course  of  the  last  two  centuries  the  best  minds, 
of  the  nation,  its  greatest  poets,  thinkers  and  leaders,  the  young, 
the  intellectual,  the  noble,  the  aspiring  have  turned  away  from 
this  belief  and  the  Church  that  represented  it  demanding  that 
their  Church  should  go  before  the  people  with  a  clarion  voice 
leading  them  in  the  lofty  path  of  freedom.  The  churches  now 
stood  in  the  road  like  two  old  market  women  in  their  broken 
carts,  calling  out  to  the  people,  or  it  went  on  and  left  them  be- 
hind. It  did  go  on !  Who  can  name  them  all  ?  Frederick  the 
Great,  Goethe,  Helmholtz!  .  .  .  Greeting  to  you,  our  leaders! 

The  eternal  might  is  ever  busy  in  the  thoughts  of  men. 

Dissatisfied  with  the  cold  repulsive  teaching  of  the  Church, 
disturbed  by  the  workings  of  the  eternal  in  their  souls,  driving 
them  to  seek  out  God,  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  German 
men  found  courage  and  conviction  to  investigate  the  Holy 
Writ.  They  wanted  to  see  whether  the  book  were  really  a 
unity  and  infallible,  as  the  Church  maintained.  It  was  a  bold 
undertaking,  but  they  declared,  "  We  shall  examine  the  book 
like  any  other." 

For  a  hundred  years  a  hundred  good  and  true  men  of  learn- 
ing continued  the  investigation,  and  as  they  did  so  it  became 
clearer  and  clearer  that  the  "  Holy  Writ  "  contained  many 
errors,  religious  and  historical,  and  a  mass  of  inconsistent  be- 
liefs: there  was  much  that  was  noble  in  it,  much  that  was  bad, 
much  that  was  narrow,  much  that  was  contradictory.  It  was 
like  a  garden,  a  wonderful,  varied,  disorderly  book.  The 
brave  men  pressed  their  way  further  and  further  into  the  gar- 
den ;  through  the  long,  rank  grass  and  the  tall  trees.  Further 
and  further  they  penetrated,  anxiously  and  with  reverent 
hearts,  seeking  for  the  Holyland,  the  bourne  of  the  human 
spirit.  .  .  .  Ah!  listen  .  .  .  from  the  midst  of  the  wide  gar- 
den, hidden  away  in  the  mysterious  mass  of  the  green  bushes, 
there  came,  soft  and  clear,  the  exquisitely  pure  voice  of  a  night- 


HOLYLAND  359 

ingale.  It  sang  with  intense  and  penetrating  sweetness,  end- 
ing on  a  note  of  quivering  pain,  of  the  love  of  the  Almighty 
and  the  divine  nature  of  man. 

In  the  time  of  Luther  there  arose  in  many  German  hearts 
a  new  and  passionate  search  for  the  word  of  God,  a  new  love 
for  Him ;  in  our  own  day  there  has  arisen  a  passionate  and  new 
love  for  the  pure  hero  who  was  hidden  away  under  so  many 
strange  disguises.  It  was  a  time  of  eager  and  joyful  energy. 
For  a  hundred  years  the  brave  German  scholars  toiled,  in  spite 
of  the  scorn  and  contempt  of  obscurantists  and  the  depreciation 
of  the  anxious,  to  try  and  break  through  the  hedge  of  thorns 
behind  which  the  hero  has  slept  in  concealment  for  two  thou- 
sand years.  Awake,  true  hero !  awake !  Gradually,  since  many 
good  men  and  true  aided  in  the  work  and  assisted  one  another, 
we  saw  his  soul;  six  or  seven  of  the  most  important  incidents 
in  his  life  were  established ;  he  stood  there,  a  man. 

He  was  a  man.  There  are  proofs  enough.  First  of  all: 
He  said  so  himself.  Second :  In  his  thought  he  was  a  child  of 
his  time.  Third:  His  character  is  remarkable.  Fourth:  He 
developed.  Fifth:  His  nature  was  not  wholly  free  from  evil. 
Sixth:  He  made  mistakes:  he  did  not  return,  and  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven  did  not  come  to  pass.  .  .  .  He  was  a  man.  Won- 
derful as  his  goodness  and  wisdom  and  courage,  neither  in 
action  nor  in  thought  was  he  more  than  man.  He  was  the 
fairest  of  the  children  of  men. 

And  his  beautiful  human  soul  has  given  us  this:  faith  in 
the  divine  dignity  and  lofty  worth  of  every  human  soul;  and, 
derived  from  this,  faith  in  the  goodness  and  nearness  of  the  un- 
known eternal  might;  and,  like  good  fruit  from  good  soil,  faith 
in  the  stern  and  beautiful  tasks  of  humanity  and  its  lofty  des- 
tiny in  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven.  Thus  he  brought  to  light  the 
meaning  and  the  worth  of  human  life  and  gave  it  an  eternal 
nobility. 

We  leave  on  one  side  all  in  him  that  was  temporary,  all  that 
was  mistaken ;  his  belief  in  spirits,  his  miracles,  his  belief  in  his 
bodily  resurrection  and  the  immediacy  of  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven.  Even  his  morality,  lofty  as  it  is,  cannot  bind  the  chil- 
dren of  a  time  so  different  from  anything  of  which  he  could 
conceive. 

We  leave  on  one  side  all  the  doctrines  which  have  been  laid 


36o  HOLYLAND 

down  from  the  time  of  Paul  and  the  Evangelists  on  concerning 
God  and  the  Saviour. 

We  put  away  the  mother  of  God  and  the  Saints,  the  Pope 
and  the  Mass  —  away  with  them.  God  has  had  them  judged 
and  sentenced  to  death  by  German  science. 

We  put  away  the  Trinity  and  the  Fall,  the  eternal  son  of 
God  and  the  atonement  by  his  blood  and  the  resurrection  of 
the  body.  Why  should  we  believe  such  things?  They  cannot 
make  us  happier  or  better.  And,  moreover,  what  have  such 
things  to  do  with  belief?  They  are  questions  of  knowledge. 
Mistaken  conceptions,  German  investigation  has  dismissed  them 
once  and  for  all.  In  their  time  they  may  have  had  a  validity 
and  a  use  for  mankind;  they  may  have  served  as  a  protecting 
frame  for  the  precious  picture  of  the  Saviour;  but  they  have 
no  utility  now.  Away  with  the  frame!  Only  ignorant  men 
or  hypocrites  fix  their  eyes  on  it  now.  Saviour,  how  beautiful  is 
thy  picture!  how  simple  and  childlike  thy  faith! 

Certainly  thy  faith  had  little  visible  basis,  little  outward 
success.  Thy  "  Father  in  Heaven  "  let  thee  descend  into  the 
abyss  of  dark  despair  and  had  no  mercy  upon  thee.  And  how 
did  men  treat  thee?  the  men  whose  dignity  thou  heldst  so  high? 
Ah,  but  within  thy  soul  had  a  prize  beyond  all  estimation, 
precious  in  that  high  and  lofty  faith  that  made  thee  so  joyful, 
set  such  a  light  in  thine  eyes,  such  strength  and  gentleness  in 
thy  heart!  Thy  faith  made  thee  the  brightest  star  in  man's 
firmament. 

Therefore  let  the  unknown  eternal  power  be  what  it  may, 
let  it  do  with  us  what  it  will;  thy  faith,  thou  fairest  of  the 
children  of  men,  is  our  faith!  And  this  is  our  faith:  we  feel 
and  we  believe  that  the  hidden  and  eternal  power  is  good  and 
true  and  holy.  We  approach  it  with  a  trembling  childlike 
love,  we  trust  it,  we  rejoice  in  it,  we  draw  close  to  it.  And  in 
this  relation  we  find  a  deep  and  peaceful  joy;  it  teaches  us  a 
reverence  for  our  own  soul  and  the  souls  of  others,  an  eager- 
ness of  eye  and  hand  in  the  cause  of  progress,  a  mind  ready  to 
help  others  and  a  joyous  hopefulness  for  the  future  of  hu- 
manity. 

And  this  faith  is  ours,  not  because  he  who  first  held  it  was 
an  eternal  and  wonderful  being  or  because  he  had  any  such 
authority  over  us.  What  has  authority  to  say  in  such  ques- 
tions? How  can  one  soul  be  responsible  for  others?  Each 


HOLYLAND  361 

soul  must  stand  alone.  It  is  ours  because  it  corresponds  to  the 
highest  elements  in  the  soul.  All  my  life  long  I  have  asked  my 
soul,  "  My  soul,  you  never  cease  to  search  for  happiness.  Tell 
me,  then,  my  soul,  what  makes  you  calm  and  strong,  gay  and 
joyous?  "  And  my  soul  replies,  "  The  faith  that  the  hero  held. 
He  was  the  true,  the  complete  man,  and  therefore  he  discovered 
the  true  faith  for  man.  Help  me  to  hold  it,  eternal  power, 
thou  mysterious  goodness,  thou  my  Father." 

Therefore  rejoice,  ye  school  children  and  teachers  through- 
out the  land.  You  have  still  to  puzzle  your  brains  over  the 
stupid  knowledge  that  is  useless  and  harmful  and  has  nothing 
to  do  with  faith;  but  it  will  all  come  soon  to  the  waste-paper 
basket.  Rejoice,  ye,  too,  shall  rejoice  in  Jesus  the  carpenter, 
the  wonderful  stainless  hero ;  ye,  too,  shall  bring  into  your  lives 
his  lofty,  childlike  faith. 

Rejoice,  young  manhood  of  the  land !  The  Church  is  fight- 
ing against  reason,  the  gift  of  God,  and  against  the  noble  joy 
of  living.  Here  is  a  faith  which  rejoices  in  every  triumph  of 
science,  which  is  in  harmony  with  the  lofty  spirit  of  Greece. 

Rejoice,  scholars  and  artists!  You  have  stood,  shaking  your 
heads  over  the  marvel  which  the  Church  had  set  down  in  the 
centre  of  man's  path ;  you  went  round  about  it,  not  knowing 
where  to  begin.  Now  there  stands  in  the  path  a  fearful,  simple 
child  of  man  looking  at  you  with  deep  and  truthful  eyes.  The 
path  of  mankind  is  lofty  indeed,  but  human. 

Rejoice,  preachers  of  both  confessions,  ye  whose  minds  are 
free  and  lofty.  Not  for  long  shall  ye  be  compelled  to  proclaim 
a  senseless  universe,  a  petty  and  unjust  God,  an  unhistorically 
distorted  Saviour.  Instead,  you  may  proclaim  with  shining 
eyes  the  life,  the  deeds,  the  faith  of  the  pure  and  true  hero; 
and  speak  with  prophetic  eyes  and  voice  of  the  future  of  man- 
kind, leading  it  on  to  the  blessed  kingdom  of  God. 

Rejoice,  O  State!  The  Church  has  used  thee  indeed;  made 
thee  her  servant  and  her  scorn ;  deceived  and  robbed  thee.  She 
had  grown  swollen  with  her  secrets;  but  German  investigation 
has  torn  her  secrets  from  her.  Is  she  to  contest  the  people  any 
longer,  to  rule  it,  to  hold  it  back?  Now  each  man  can  hear 
with  his  own  ears  the  exquisite  song  of  the  nightingale,  and 
interpret  it  after  his  own  fashion. 

Rejoice,  O  Christendom!  All  seemed  lost  for  thee  in  our 
time.  Thou  couldst  not  have  conquered  the  world  with  the 


362  HOLYLAND 

"  Pope  "  and  the  "  Word  of  God."  But  China,  India  and 
Japan  will  turn  to  the  pure  hero  and  accept  his  faith.  If  they 
have  souls  like  ours  they  will  accept  it,  for  it  is  adapted  to  the 
human  heart ;  the  heart  needs  it  and  opens  out  to  it. 

Rejoice,  O  my  soul!  Sit  still  a  while  and  dream;  rejoice! 
What  light  has  been  cast  into  the  darkness  of  German  thought ! 
If  the  light  hurts  thee,  my  soul,  thy  eyes  will  grow  accustomed 
to  it,  thou  bird  of  the  day!  Dost  thou  see  clear  now?  Dost 
thou  see  the  land?  Dost  thou  rejoice?  What  a  Holyland! 
what  a  joyous  future  is  before  it!  Sit  still  a  while  and  look 
around  and  think.  .  .  .  Now,  no  more;  now  arise,  and  go 
about  thy  work  thou  joyful  sad  one,  thou  companion  of  God. 

Heinke  Boje  sat  by  the  table  in  her  room,  and  read  by  the 
light  of  the  lamp. 

When  the  night  came  the  thick  mist  of  autumn  rose  up  from 
the  hollows  and  lay  in  grey,  snakelike  lines  round  the  town 
of  Hilligenlei;  it  glided  into  the  streets  to  terrify  men  with  its 
soundless  advance,  its  pale  coils,  to  fill  the  town  over  the  tops 
of  the  houses,  up  to  the  roof  of  the  tower,  hiding  away  all 
light. 

About  midnight,  when  Heinke  Boje  had  read  to  the  end,  she 
opened  the  window  and  looked  out.  When  she  perceived  the 
void,  cold,  formless  mass  whirling  there  her  heart  contracted 
and  she  felt  oppressed  with  fear.  The  uncertainty,  the  burden 
of  human  life,  the  awful  isolation  of  every  individual  soul  came 
upon  her  and  tortured  her.  She  wept  in  pity  for  herself  and  all 
men,  and  for  him  who  was  now  making  his  lonely  way  through 
this  cold,  grey,  formless  mist.  No  love  went  with  him ;  no 
companion  shared  his  faith. 

Then  her  thoughts  turned  to  him  of  whom  she  had  just 
read ;  to  the  strong  pure  man  and  his  faith.  And  her  faith  rose 
up  to  meet  his.  She  believed  and  prayed  as  he  had  believed  and 
prayed. 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  first  long  letter  from  Kai  Jans  came  three  months 
later,  as  Heinke  Boje  was  sitting  at  breakfast  one  morning 
with  Peter  Volquardsen's  mother  in  East  Holstein,  the  spark- 
ling engagement  ring  on  her  finger.  It  came  from  Capetown. 
She  rose  and  went  up  to  her  bedroom,  and  devoured  the  letter 
with  eager  eyes.  The  two  travellers  had  gone  ashore  at  Cape- 
town, and  now,  after  much  laying  of  plans,  had  decided  to 
travel  through  all  the  English  Colonies  as  far  as  the  Crocodile 
River.  They  meant  to  spend  two  years  in  doing  this,  and  then, 
if  possible,  to  go  by  land  to  the  German  Colonies  in  the  West. 
The  letter  did  not  dwell  upon  this,  but  went  on  to  talk  of  all 
kinds  of  personal  experiences  old  and  new,  great  and  small,  and 
the  feelings  which  they  had  roused  or  the  circumstances  in 
which  they  had  taken  place,  giving  the  reader  a  lively  picture 
of  the  writer's  mind.  It  was  the  letter  of  a  man  who  had  com- 
pleted the  act  of  renunciation  and  was  going  on  his  lonely  way 
in  silent  courage.  Once,  only  once,  something  in  the  turn  of  a 
phrase  suggested  the  agonised  sense  of  loss  behind,  but  it  was 
quickly  covered  up  by  a  gay  jest.  She  was  overjoyed  with  the 
letter.  She  had  been  afraid  he  had  turned  away  from  her  in 
bitterness,  that  he  would  write  coldly  and  distantly,  or  speak 
of  his  suffering;  instead,  his  letter  breathed  nothing  but  affec- 
tion and  courage;  she  could  feel  the  affection  and  the  courage 
in  his  grave  and  jesting  words  as  she  read  the  letter  again  and 
again  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  Then  she  sat  down  and  wrote  a 
long  letter  in  reply,  full  of  her  joy  and  her  warm  friendship 
to  him. 

From  this  time  on  long  friendly  letters  passed  between  them. 
At  times  there  was  deep  longing  in  her  thought  of  him ;  but 
generally  she  was  calm  like  a  man  who  has  a  rich  possession  in 
his  hands  and  another  far  away  which  he  knows  is  safe.  She 
looked  forward  with  childlike  delicht  to  the  distant  day  of  his 
return.  That  would  be  a  delightful  day!  to  have  him  sitting 


364  HOLYLAND 

at  her  table  as  her  guest,  such  a  dear  guest!  How  she  should 
spoil  him,  laugh  at  him,  tease  him  and  find  out  all  his  likes  and 
dislikes. 

One  day  she  told  him  that  she  was  now  living  with  her 
friend;  another  time  that  she  was  expecting  her  first  child; 
another  that  she  had  given  birth  to  a  boy.  It  was  with  deep 
joy,  with  a  secret  and  fearful  pride  that  she  saw  from  his  let- 
ters how  deeply  the  news  had  affected  him.  She  did  desire  pas- 
sionately that  he  should  continue  to  love  her,  always,  always. 
She  could  not  bear  the  thought  that  another  woman  might 
possess  him  and  she  be  forgot.  She  told  him  in  moving  words 
how  she  prized  the  jewel  of  his  love,  and  of  her  cherished  hope 
that  one  day  when  they  were  both  grown  old  and  calm  they 
might  live  next  door  to  one  another,  "  and  then  every  morning 
one  of  the  children  shall  bring  you  a  flower  to  say  good  morn- 
ing! and  every  evening  you  shall  sit  with  us  in  the  light  of  our 
lamp."  He  took  up  the  idea  in  his  answer  and  elaborated  it 
half  in  jest  and  half  in  earnest,  so  movingly  that  she  sobbed 
aloud. 

Three  and  a  half  years  went  by.  She  lived  in  perfect  har- 
mony and  happiness  with  her  husband,  rejoicing  with  him  in 
the  child  now  able  to  run  from  one  parent  to  the  other  and 
gaze  with  intelligent  eyes  at  the  pictures  his  father  showed 
him ;  and  expected  her  second  child. 

Just  about  this  time  the  newspapers  published  the  first  re- 
ports of  that  rising  in  our  colony  which  was  to  cost  us  so  many 
noble  lives.  They  were  in  no  anxiety  about  the  travelling, 
however,  since  he  had  said  in  his  last  letter  that  the  high  prices 
and  the  unsuitable  time  of  year  had  decided  them  against  going 
by  land ;  they  intended  to  go  via  Capetown.  But  when  no 
further  news  came  for  ten  weeks  they  began  to  be  uneasy. 

At  last  a  letter  came.  His  friend  wrote  from  Windhoek 
to  the  "  friend  of  his  dear  friend."  "  We  decided,  after  all, 
on  finding  that  we  could  accompany  a  party  of  Boers  to  go 
with  waggons  through  Griqua  and  Namaqualand.  We  ar- 
rived safely  and  intended  to  part  from  the  Boers  in  order  to 
look  at  some  of  the  farms.  In  the  night  a  colonist  came  to 
our  camp  fire,  on  foot,  a  fugitive,  declaring  that  he  had  been 
attacked  and  his  wife  and  three  children  were  wandering  there 
in  the  bush.  Kai  Jans  and  I  immediately  left  the  Boers  and, 
under  cover  of  the  darkness,  made  our  way  with  the  fugitive  to 


HOLYLAND  365 

his  dwelling;  after  some  search  we  found  his  wife  and  children 
in  the  bush;  and  then  made  our  way  north,  marching  night 
and  day,  on  foot,  over  the  parched  and  burning  sand  and  rock, 
often  perishing  of  thirst,  always  in  danger  of  our  lives.  Dur- 
ing the  march  our  friend  underwent  a  great  strain;  as  you 
know  since  he  was  a  sailor  on  the  Clara  his  heart  and  lungs 
have  not  been  very  strong,  and,  during  our  flight,  even  when 
we  others  had  the  watch,  his  imagination  kept  him  from  sleep- 
ing. All  the  time  he  was  always  ready  to  carry  the  youngest 
.  .Ihild,  a  stout  little  beggar  who  was  always  crying.  Finally 
when  we  reached  Rehoboth  in  comparative  safety  he  fell  seri- 
ously ill  of  pneumonia.  The  attack  was  sharp  and  short;  he  is 
now  practically  recovered,  but  the  doctor  cannot  say  anything 
definitely  until  it  appears  how  far  his  heart  has  been  affected. 
I  took  advantage  of  the  first  opportunity  of  coming  with  him 
to  Windhoek,  where  we  now  are,  and  as  soon  as  the  doctor 
recommends  I  shall  bring  him  back  to  Germany,  trusting  that 
your  care  and  his  native  air  may  bring  him  back  to  health. 

"  You  will  pardon  my  freedom  in  saying  to  you  that  since 
the  beginning  of  our  journey  I  have  known,  although  my 
friend  breathed  no  word  upon  the  subject,  that  he  had  some 
heavy  sorrow;  his  behaviour  revealed  to  me  what  his  lips  did 
not.  Ordinarily  he  was  as  you  know  him:  keenly  observant, 
deeply  interested  in  the  conditions  of  the  unknown  country, 
friendly  and  sympathetic  to  all.  But  when  he  was  alone  and 
thought  himself  unobserved  I  used  often  to  find  him  in  a 
strange  state  of  mind ;  sometimes  he  seemed  quite  broken,  there 
was  a  silent  anguish  on  his  face  like  that  of  a  man  whose  hopes 
are  all  shattered ;  sometimes,  again,  his  eyes  shone  with  an  ab- 
stracted expression  as  if  in  his  mind's  eye  Ke  saw  his  beloved 
smiling  to  him  from  afar.  I  did  not  know  what  caused  such 
varied  moods  in  him,  and  yet  I  had  long  felt  certain  that  both 
the  mood  of  despair  and  of  joy  was  connected  with  you;  for 
whenever  he  spoke  of  his  youth  and  his  home  he  ended  by 
speaking  of  you. 

"  It  was  the  first  day  in  Rehoboth,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
that  he  spoke  to  me.  He  felt  that  a  serious  illness  was  coming 
upon  him,  and  while  he  tried  hastily  to  write  a  letter  to  you 
the  fever  made  his  hand  so  unsteady  that  he  had  to  throw  away 
the  pen.  Then  he  said  to  me  in  a  tone  of  utter  despondency 
that  in  his  life  he  had  endured  much,  he  had  fought  against  and 


366  HOLYLAND 

conquered  powerful  spirit  shapes,  but  one  thing  he  could  not 
overcome:  the  knowledge  that  he  had  lost  you,  and  lost  you 
through  his  own  folly. 

"  I  am  a  reserved  and  almost  cold  man ;  he  told  me  that  he 
chose  me  for  his  friend  because  I  calmed  the  passion  of  his 
blood.  I  told  him  that  such  a  feeling  might  well  grow  to 
something  overwhelming  if  he  allowed  himself  to  feed  it  daily 
on  the  longings  of  a  lively  imagination.  He  replied  that  he 
had  known  you  from  his  childhood,  and,  although  he  was  not 
blind  to  your  faults,  which  were  the  faults  of  your  family,  you 
had  stood  by  him  from  your  childhood  for  all  that  was  dear 
and  beautiful  and  pure  in  life. 

"  I  need  tell  you  no  more  of  his  illness  except  this :  in  his 
wandering  he  was  always  comforting  a  child,  whom  he  carried 
through  sand  and  bush;  but  it  was  not  that  child,  but  yours. 
In  the  strange  confusion  of  disease  he  was  carrying  it  to  you, 
toiling  over  wide  plains  and  over  exhausting  roads,  you  stood  in 
the  distance,  looking  across  to  him  and  scolding  him  for  mak- 
ing such  slow  progress. 

"  I  found  some  notes  in  the  diary  which  he  handed  over  to 
me,  which  I  enclose.  First,  some  notes  on  the  life  of  the  Sa- 
viour, modifications  of  certain  crudities  of  style  and  matter. 
The  rest  deals  with  his  relations  to  you.  No  doubt  with  the 
idea  of  always  having  to  hand  thoughts  that  could  console 
and  strengthen  him  in  his  sorrow  he  put  down  some  considera- 
tions which  could  help  him.  '  God  did  not  let  her  belong  to 
me  because  He  wished  to  shield  me  and  her  from  exceeding 
sorrow;  for  I  shall  die  soon.  ...  I  alone  suffer;  through  my 
renunciation  they,  too,  live  in  peace.  ...  I  must  live  and  be  of 
good  courage  to  be  a  helper  to  her  if  sorrow  ever  comes  upon 
her.  .  .  .  How  often  a  poor  rejected  lover  has  no  friendly 
word  from  the  woman  he  loves ;  but  every  letter  shows  me  that 
I  am  dear  to  her.  ...  I  will  believe  that  there  is  a  good  end 
attained  by  my  sorrow;  it  will  make  me  a  better  and  deeper 
man,  and  therefore  I  must  not  despair.  ...  I  will  think  of 
the  days  to  come  when  we  are  old,  when  I  may  be  able  to  en- 
dure to  see  her,  even  to  find  joy  in  it.  ...  If  she  had  been 
my  wife,  every  heart  beat,  every  pang  in  my  shoulder  would 
have  tortured  me  with  the  fear  of  a  long  illness  or  death ;  now 
I  am  at  all  times  ready  for  whatever  the  eternal  power  may 
send,  be  it  health  or  sickness  or  death.' 


HOLYLAND  367 

"  I  am  writing  this  and  sending  it  by  the  mail  that  goes  the 
day  after  to-morrow  in  order  that  you  may  write  to  him  what- 
ever you  think  fit,  or  if  I  cable  you  in  the  course  of  a  week 
that  I  am  bringing  him  home  you  may  be  fully  informed  as  to 
his  condition." 

So  ran  the  friend's  letter.  Three  weeks  later  came  the  cable, 
"Jans,  May  21,  Hamburg." 

Early  in  the  morning  of  the  2ist  of  May  the  two  who  had 
stood  nearest  to  him  from  his  childhood  started  off  for  Ham- 
burg, Heinke  Volquardsen  and  Lau,  the  corn-dealer. 

On  their  arrival  at  the  inn  Pe  Ontjes  went  down  to  the 
harbour  and  saw  the  steamer  slowly  sailing  up  the  Elbe.  He 
ran  to  the  African  quay,  reaching  it  almost  at  the  moment  of 
the  steamer's  arrival,  and  went  on  board.  He  asked  for  the 
doctor  and  enquired  of  him  whether  Jans  were  on  board  and 
how  he  was.  The  young  doctor  replied  that  the  sea  voyage 
had  done  his  lung  great  good ;  it  was  in  fact  almost  well  again ; 
but  the  condition  of  his  heart  left  a  great  deal  to  be  desired. 
It  was  possible  that  he  might  recover  his  strength,  and  treat- 
ment at  some  sanatorium  might  effect  a  complete  cure;  it  was 
also  possible  that  any  day  might  bring  the  end.  He  would 
go  down  and  announce  the  visitor. 

Lau  went  in  and  found  him  alone.  As  he  lay  on  his  back 
his  emaciated  appearance  shocked  Lau,  although  he  concealed 
it.  He  sat  down  on  the  chair  by  the  bed  and  held  his  hand  in 
his. 

"  It's  like  Cape  Horn,"  said  Kai  Jans,  his  eyes  shining. 

"  Very  like !  "  said  Lau.  "  They  all  send  their  love  to  you. 
First  your  father." 

"How  is  the  old  man?"  said  Kai  Jans,  smiling  as  he 
thought  of  the  letters  he  had  had  from  him,  the  quaint  humour 
with  which  he  spoke  of  the  doings  of  Hilligenlei,  the  enthusias- 
tic language  of  his  political  and  religious  aspirations. 

"  He's  all  right,"  said  Lau ;  "  he  has  his  interest  from  the 
Hindorf  Savings  Bank  and  his  pension,  and  now  and  then  he 
earns  a  trifle;  and  altogether  he  has  a  shilling  a  day.  He  has 
got  a  little  smaller  and  a  little  thinner  since  you  saw  him  last, 
but  I  can  tell  you  there's  nothing  more  magnificent  in  Hilli- 
genlei than  to  see  him  sitting  there,  with  his  cap  well  over  his 
head  and  his  eyes  sparkling  under  the  brim,  puffing  away  at 


368  HOLYLAND 

his  short  pipe.  I  often  tell  Anna,  '  You  and  Thomas  Jans  in 
your  different  ways  are  the  noblesse  of  Hilligenlei.'  He  reads 
the  Labour  Leader  as  he  used,  and  still  belongs  to  the  party. 
But  he's  not  a  whole-hearted  adherent;  he  can't  give  up  the 
Bible  ...  he  can't  get  away  from  the  lightship,  so  to  speak, 
on  which  he  used  to  brood  and  read  the  Bible  in  his  young 
days." 

"And  how  are  Anna  and  the  children?" 

Pe  Ontjes  Lau  gave  a  curious  smile.  "  Well,"  he  said,  "  the 
children  and  I  know  her  humours  now,  and  so  we  get  on  very 
well  on  the  whole.  Of  course,  she  worries  because  her  husband 
is  not  the  richest  and  most  learned  man  in  Hilligenlei  and 
hasn't  got  the  best  position  —  and,  indeed,  she  might  demand 
as  much  of  God  —  and  because  her  children  are  not  first 
at  school.  The  girl  is  quick  and  bright  like  herself;  but  the 
boy  is  slow  like  me.  We  have  something  to  bear,  Kai,  and 
perhaps  we  always  shall  have ;  her  nature  somehow  seems  never 
to  have  been  smoothed  off  or  finished.  But  you  have  helped  us. 
Four  years  ago,  when  she  read  the  life  of  the  Saviour  that  you 
gave  to  Heinke,  she  was  much  softer  and  gentler  and  less  un- 
just for  a  while.  The  other  day  the  boy  came  into  my  writing- 
room  and  stood  close  by  me  for  a  time  playing  with  the  ruler, 
and  then  said,  in  a  kind  of  offhand  way,  '  Father,  mother  has 
been  so  sharp  and  so  cross  to-day  and  yesterday  ...  do  you 
know  .  .  .  you  must  talk  about  the  life  of  the  Saviour  this  eve- 
ning. Perhaps  she  will  read  it  again.'  " 

Kai  Jans  smiled.     "But  you  are  happy?" 

"  Of  course  we  are,"  said  Pe  Ontjes.  '  The  whole  trouble, 
hers  and  ours,  is  that  she  loves  us  beyond  reason." 

"And  Pete?" 

"  Oh  —  Pete.  Pete  has  only  one  idea  —  getting  on  —  get- 
ting on.  It  does  not  make  him  happy,  but  there  seems  no  room 
for  anything  else  in  him.  He  has  married  a  German-American 
like  himself.  We  see  nothing  of  her." 

Kai  Jans  lay  still  awhile,  thinking  of  the  friend  of  his  youth 
with  half-closed  eyes.  Then  his  thoughts  passed  to  Tjark 
Dusenschon,  and  he  asked  about  him. 

"  He  is  here  in  Hamburg,  and  is  said  to  have  a  good  position 
in  some  private  business  —  something  in  the  undertaking  line, 
I  imagine.  Don't  be  afraid ;  a  man  like  that  never  goes  under." 

Kai  Jans  was  silent  and   lay  still   for  awhile,   rather  ex- 


HOLYLAND  369 

hausted.  Pe  Ontjes  sat  by  his  side.  Then,  rousing  himself 
again,  he  said,  "  Have  you  any  other  message  for  me?  " 

"  Heinke  is  here,  Kai." 

"Is  she  coming?"  he  said  softly.  Then,  suddenly,  in  spite 
of  his  efforts  to  control  himself,  he  began  to  weep  passionately, 
and  said  between  his  sobs,  "  Dear  Pe,  I  am  no  coward,  but  I 
am  still  weak  from  my  illness." 

"  I  know,  my  boy.  ...  I  know.  .  .  .  Weep  if  it  eases 
you." 

"  I  haven't  wept  since  that  day  on  the  Gude  Wife." 

"  I  know,  my  boy.  .  .  .  You  don't  need  to  be  ashamed ; 
there's  reason  enough  for  it." 

"  There  is  nothing  so  hard  in  life,"  said  Kai  Jans,  "  as  to 
have  to  avoid  what  is  more  precious  to  one  than  everything  in 
the  world." 

"Yes,  my  boy;  I  can  understand." 

"  I  have  fought  against  it ;  you  can  believe  that.  But  often 
when  I  was  so  alone,  so  utterly  alone,  and  used  to  think  how 
dear  she  is  and  hear  her  sweet  voice  and  see  her  dear,  bright 
eyes,  then  despair  seemed  to  take  hold  of  me.  Oh,  Pe  Ontjes, 
what  has  one  in  the  world  .  .  .  how  poor  the  man  is  who 
loves  and  has  to  avoid  her  he  loves." 

"  I  think,  Kai,  it  will  be  easier  now,"  said  the  great  Pe 
Ontjes  sympathetically.  "  You  will  grow  accustomed  to  seeing 
her  now  and  then,  and  then  you  will  be  more  at  rest." 

He  became  calmer.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  since  it  has  to  be  I 
ought  to  be  glad  that  she  and  her  husband  are  my  fjiends.  I 
will  learn  to  rejoice  in  her  happiness."  He  passed  his  hand 
across  his  eyes  and  lay  still.  "  It  is  possible,"  he  said,  "  that 
I  shall  not  live  much  longer;  then  there  will  be  an  end  of  all 
trouble." 

"  Oh,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  "  don't  talk  like  that.  You  will  go 
to  Wiesbaden  or  Nauheim  and  get  well  again ;  and  when  you 
are  a  strong  man  again  you  can  do  the  work  you  describe  in 
the  life  of  the  Saviour." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  perhaps.  There  is  a  great  deal  I  want  to 
do.  Only,  Pe  Ontjes  ...  it  is  too  deep.  I  have  known  her 
so  long  —  since  she  was  a  child.  God  let  her  grow  up  before 
my  eyes;  let  her  grow  beautiful  and  clever  and  dear,  so  dear; 
and  said  to  me,  '  Look  how  she  grows  and  blooms ;  one  day 


370  HOLYLAND 

she  shall  make  a  strong  and  good  man  of  you.  .  .  .'  And  now 
...  it  is  hard  to  bear." 

A  step  was  heard  outside  and  a  woman's  voice. 

"  I  told  her  to  follow  me  if  I  did  not  return.  I  think  that 
is  she.  .  .  .  Courage,  my  boy!  I  will  wait  on  board.  I  only 
wanted  to  tell  you  that  she  is  expecting  her  second  child.  .  .  . 
Now,  be  brave  and  calm."  He  went  out  at  the  door  and  she 
came  in. 

She  went  straight  up  to  his  bed  and  began  to  stroke  his 
hands.  Although  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  remain  per- 
fectly calm,  she  began  to  weep  as  she  stroked  his  hands,  and 
said,  "  Dear,  dear  boy.  .  .  .  Heinke  is  here  .  .  .  only  say 
what  can  she  do  for  you.  Tell  me,  what  can  I  do?  " 

He  looked  up  at  her  with  beaming  eyes.  "  Be  good  to  me, 
as  you  are,"  he  said.  "  It  makes  me  too  happy  to  have  you 
so.  ...  Are  they  good  to  you  ?  " 

"Who,  Kai?  Peter  Volquardsen?  He  is  just  what  he  al- 
ways was,  Kai  .  .  .  the  same  dear,  splendid  person  that  he 
always  was." 

:<  Then  all  is  well,"  he  said.    "  It  has  not  been  in  vain." 

"No,"  she  said,  "not  in  vain.  You  have  saved  one  .human 
soul  from  misery,  and  another  from  the  pangs  of  conscience. 
Not  in  vain!  But  you  must  be  brave;  what  is  the  use,  if  you 
are  not  brave  and  gay?  "  She  bent  over  his  hand  and  pressed 
it  against  her  face,  weeping  bitterly  as  she  said,  "If  you  cannot 
bear  it  and  your  love  for  me  ruins  you  —  that  I  could  not  bear. 
All  my  happiness  would  vanish." 

He  nodded  to  her.  "  I  have  been  brave  always ;  haven't  I 
written  you  good  letters  always  ?  I  will  fight  it  out ;  you  shall 
see." 

She  pushed  back  the  hair  from  his  forehead  and  temples  and 
looked  at  him  with  affectionately  tearful  eyes.  "  And  in  the 
summer  holidays,  if  you  are  in  Wiesbaden  and  we  can  save 
enough,  we  will  come  and  see  you.  I  shall  still  be  able  to 
travel  then.  'Then  I  will  sit  with  you  all  day.  And  in  the 
autumn  you  must  come  to  Hilligenlei.  You  are  to  live  with 
Anna  —  did  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  Afterwards  I  shall  live  in  Hamburg,"  he  said.  "  I  agreed 
on  that  with  my  friend.  I  shall  do  all  sorts  of  things  there,  and 
then  .  .  ." 

"  .Then  you  will  come  to  Hilligenlei  from  time  to  time,  and 


HOLYLAND  37' 

we  shall  be  ever  so  glad.    You  shall  just  see  how  glad  we  shall 
be!" 

"  Then  when  your  children  are  bigger,"  he  said  with  happy 
eyes,  "  you  must  bring  them  to  Hamburg  and  I  will  show  you 
everything.  And  as  I  get  older  I  can  come  and  sit  with  you 
and  see  you  busy  in  your  house,  and  talk  over  old  times  with 
you." 

"  And  then,"  she  said,  with  merry  eyes,  "  then  we  shall  get 
quite  old,  and  you  will  come  every  day  and  we  shall  discuss  the 
state  of  your  health."  And  she  began  to  talk  in  the  high, 
piping  voice  of  quite  an  old  woman  that  came  strangely  from 
her  fresh,  laughing  face  and  her  shining  young  eyes. 

He  looked  at  her  with  happy  eyes.  "  Are  you  the  same  to 
everybody  that  you  are  to  me?  " 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said ;  "  the  Bojes  are  not  like  that.  Only  to 
my  own  people  and  you.  Oh,  you  must  see  the  little  boy.  .  .  . 
I  really  wanted  to  bring  him  with  me.  But  it  is  better  as  it  is. 
I  wanted  to  be  the  old  Heinke  Boje  when  I  came." 

"The  old  Heinke  Boje,"  he  sighed. 

"  Your  dearest  friend,"  she  said,  "  who  would  do  anything 
for  you  —  anything.  Kai,  you  must  never  be  lonely.  My 
husband  told  me  to  tell  you  that  you  are  never  to  be  lonely." 

"  You  dear  people,"  said  he.  "  Tell  me  about  him  and  about 
your  life." 

She  began  to  tell  him  and  he  listened  for  a  while.  Then  his 
eyes  grew  gradually  heavy. 

The  doctor  came  in.  He  went  up  to  the  bed  and  said,  "  I 
have  decided  to  take  you  to  the  hospital  this  afternoon.  Since 
you  have  had  all  sorts  of  excitement  to-day,  and  since  you  have 
to  move,  I  propose  that  you  do  not  see  your  friends  again  until 
to-morrow  morning  ...  in  the  hospital.  Do  you  agree  ?  " 

Kai  Jans  nodded  and  the  doctor  turned  to  go. 

Heinke  bent  down  over  him  quickly  and  said  in  a  low  voice, 
with  tears  streaming  from  her  eyes,  "  Dear,  precious  one,"  and 
went  out. 

It  was  the  last  time  they  saw  each  other. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  he  was  moved  into  the  harbour  hos- 
pital, and  lay  there  exhausted  by  the  moving,  but  at  peace. 

Towards  evening  a  young  Hamburg  clergyman  came  to  see 
him,  who  had  been  devoted  to  him  for  years,  and  had  heard  of 
his  being  there  through  a  chance  meeting  with  the  doctor.  He, 


372  HOLYLAND 

like  other  friends,  had  read  the  manuscript  life  of  the  Saviour, 
which  had  been  copied  and  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  and  he 
now  asked  whether  he  intended  to  publish  it.  He  replied  that 
he  should  wait  a  year;  he  wanted  to  read  it  through  first.  His 
young  friend  then  asked  him  whether  he  dreaded  publication. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "why  should  I  dread  it?  I  know  that  my 
Saviour  and  my  gospel  are  truer  than  those  taught  by  the 
Church.  Even  if  I  stood  quite  alone  why  should  I  be  afraid? 
One  need  not  be  afraid  to  be  alone  with  truth.  .  .  .  Of  course, 
people  will  say,  '  Look  how  wildly  he  talks  as  soon  as  he  has 
given  up  orders,'  but  that  is  not  the  explanation;  it  was  only 
that  before  I  did  not  see  things  clearly.  I  was  still  under  the 
ban  of  doctrine,  like  most  of  my  brethren;  it  only  came  to  me 
slowly  and  painfully.  How  I  have  brooded  all  my  life,  what 
fears  I  have  had !  "  After  a  pause  he  said,  "  But  I  have  fought 
my  way  out  of  the  confusion ;  I  have  not  wriggled  and  twisted 
out  like  an  eel ;  and  that  is  why  I  am  happy  now  and  ready  to 
die  or  live  as  God  wills  it." 

After  another  silence,  during  which  his  friend  turned  over 
the  leaves  of  the  New  Testament  that  lay  on  the  table  by  his 
bed,  he  said,  as  if  to  himself,  "  And  it  is  better  so." 

"What  is  better  so?"  asked  his  friend. 

He  made  no  reply.  He  only  said  in  a  low,  weary  voice  — 
he  had  heard  the  rustling  of  the  leaves  —  "  Read  me  something 
aloud  —  about  Him." 

He  read  some  sentences  from  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  and 
some  of  the  parables,  just  where  he  happened  to  open  the 
book. 

After  a  pause  he  awoke  from  his  dreams  and  said,  "  Teachers 
ought  to  be  good  to  all  children." 

"  Why  do  you  say  that?  "  said  his  friend. 

"  One  must  be  good  to  children,"  he  said.  '  They  cannot 
defend  themselves.  And,  perhaps,  they  cannot  tell,  the  boy  who 
is  to  bring  the  final  knowledge  is  sitting  at  their  feet,  or  the 
girl  who  is  to  be  his  mother,  tortured  by  strange,  dreamlike 
thoughts." 

His  friend  said,  "  Quite  a  number  of  professors  are  trying 
to  teach  people  the  new  knowledge.  They  write  well." 

He  smiled.  "  Their  task  is  hard  enough.  God  bless  Ger- 
man science!  I  thought  badly  enough  of  it  at  one  time;  but 
we  owe  it  a  great  debt." 


HOLYLAND  373 

His  friend  said,  "  If  your  life  of  the  Saviour  is  published, 
many,  many  people  who  have  fallen  away  from  the  doctrines 
of  the  Church,  and  lost  all  faith  thereby,  will  be  able  to  feel 
themselves  Christians  again.  They  will  be  able  to  accept  the 
Gospel,  and  that  will  be  a  great  gain  in  their  lives  and  here- 
after." 

He  seemed  not  to  have  heard.  After  a  time  he  said,  "  It  will 
not  be  light  until  we  have  got  rid  of  all  our  confused  notions, 
of  the  Pope  and  the  atonement  by  His  blood,  and  all  the  other 
stupid  errors,  and  have  the  simple  gospel  instead.  His  yoke 
is  easy  and  His  burden  is  light." 

He  folded  his  hands  painfully  and  lay  still  for  a  time.  Then 
he  said  in  a  clear  voice,  "  I  have  seen  Hilligenlei  once  —  in  a 
dream  ...  it  was  unspeakably  beautiful."  He  seemed  to 
sleep. 

His  friend  sat  for  a  time  beside  the  bed,  reading  in  the  New 
Testament,  and  then  went  softly  out. 

The  next  morning  they  found  Kai  Jans  dead.  The  exam- 
ination proved  that  he  had  died  of  syncope  about  midnight, 
apparently  without  any  struggle. 

When  Pe  Ontjes  reached  the  hospital  about  nine  next  morn- 
ing he  learned  that  the  end  had  come,  and  he  went  back  to  the 
inn  to  Heinke  in  deep  depression.  She  was  still  in  her  room. 

When  he  told  her  she  seemed  at  first  like  one  turned  to 
stone.  When  she  understood  and  it  suddenly  dawned  upon  her, 
"  He  is  gone  —  gone  out  of  my  life,"  she  wept  bitterly  and 
stretched  out  her  hand  to  him  like  a  child  whose  favourite  play- 
thing has  been  taken  away. 

Once  again  a  Boje  sat  upon  the  edge  of  her  bed  and  would 
not  be  comforted. 

Pe  Ontjes  said  what  he  could.  "Did  you  love  him  so?" 
he  said.  "  And  do  you  love  your  husband  as  much  ?  "  Then 
in  genuine  astonishment  he  said,  "  You  Bojes  are  strange 
people!  .  .  .  But  now  you  mustn't  cry  any  more.  Get  up 
and  come  with  me.  We  must  telegraph  and  see  about  the 
funeral." 

"  Not  in  Hamburg,"  said  she. 

"  I  should  think  not,"  said  he.  "  In  Hindorf.  That's 
where  his  people  come  from.  That's  where  his  father  lived  as 
a  young  man.  And  he  himself  took  duty  there  for  two  years." 


374  HOLYLAND 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  often  go  and  see  the  dear  people  at  the 
vicarage,  where  we  two  used  to  be  like  their  own  children." 

She  rose  and  wiped  her  bright  eyes  and  smoothed  down  her 
dress,  sobbing  afresh  as  she  said,  "  I  can't  go  out  like  this;  I 
must  have  a  black  dress." 

He  smiled  in  the  midst  of  his  grief. 

"  We  can  buy  one  here,  Heinke,"  he  said,  stroking  her  hair. 
"  Come  now." 

They  drove  to  the  hospital.  On  the  way  he  tried  to  per- 
suade her  not  to  see  the  dead.  "  I  have  seen  him,"  he  said, 
"  and  I  can  tell  you  that  his  face  is  quiet  and  peaceful.  Be 
content  with  that." 

When  they  were  leaving  the  building  who  should  come 
towards  them  but  Tjark  Dusenschon.  He  was  clad  in  the 
deepest  mourning,  with  a  shiny  tall  hat  and  umbrella.  An  ex- 
pression of  profound  seriousness  on  his  round,  clean-shaven 
face,  he  came  towards  them,  and  after  shaking  hands  said,  "  I 
have  heard  that  Kai  Jans  is  dead  .  .  ."he  swallowed  down  his 
tears.  .  .  .  "The  body  is  to  go  to  Hilligenlei?  " 

"To   Hindorf." 

"  I  am  at  the  head  of  the  undertaking  firm  of  Holy  Trinity, 
of  which  I  am  the  founder.  If  you  will  entrust  to  me  the  exe- 
cution of  this  melancholy  commission,  I  can  ensure  that  every- 
thing will  be  carried  out  to  your  satisfaction.  .  .  .  We  have 
three  classes  .  .  ."  he  drew  a  price  list  out  of  his  pocket. 

"  Medium,"  said  Pe  Ontjes,  curtly  and  quickly. 

"  Coffin,  pall  .  .  ." 

"  I  will  be  there  to  superintend,"  said  Pe  Ontjes. 

".  .  .  and  conveyance  to  Hilligenlei  Station,  thirteen 
pounds." 

"  Agreed,"  said  Pe  Ontjes.     "  We  can  go  now,  Heinke." 

Two  days  later  Kai  Jans  lay  on  his  bier  in  the  hospital  mor- 
tuary, unchanged,  wrapped  in  the  white  pall  which  Tjark 
Dusenschon  had  provided.  Pe  Ontjes  had  stood  by  and  seen 
everything  done.  The  bearers  came  in. 

Tjark  Dusenschon  came  in  in  his  elegant  frock  coat,  his 
shiny  black  hat  in  his  hand,  and,  standing  at  the  head  of  the 
bier,  uttered  an  "  Our  "Father,"  as  prescribed  by  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  Holy  Trinity. 

The  coffin  was  closed  and  carried  out. 

Outside,  when  the  hearse  had  already  started  and  Pe  Ontjes 


HOLYLAND  375 

was  just  getting  into  the  carriage  beside  Heinke,  Tjark  Du- 
senschon  came  up  to  say  farewell,  and  said,  with  a  melancholy 
shake  of  his  head,  "  It's  a  pity  that  he  never  came  to  anything 
...  he  was  such  a  gifted  fellow.  But  .  .  .  you  know  .  .  . 
he  had  no  class  feeling.  That  was  what  it  was.  He  always 
remained  the  workman,  the  country  boy.  He  never  rose  .  .  . 
that  was  his  failing." 

Pe  Ontjes  said  nothing.  He  was  eager  to  be  away  from 
the  town  and  at  home  again.  He  kept  leaning  out  of  the  win- 
dow, watching  the  hearse  in  front  making  its  way  through  the 
press  of  traffic,  the  noise,  and  ringing  of  bells. 

When  they  reached  the  station  at  Hilligenlei  they  found 
there  twenty  or  thirty  people  clad  in  mourning,  people  that 
they  knew;  eight  Hindorf  workmen  took  the  coffin,  four  on 
each  side,  fair  beards  to  the  right,  red  to  the  left,  and  raised  it 
on  to  their  shoulders. 

Then  Pe  Ontjes  drew  a  deep  breath.  "Thank  God!"  he 
said.  At  last  he  seemed  to  feel  him  saved  from  all  the  sorrows 
and  troubles  of  life. 

The  little  old  man  stood  in  front  of  his  door,  in  front  of  the 
long  house,  waiting  for  the  procession.  He  gave  a  long  look 
at  the  coffin  and  his  mouth  quivered.  Then  he  pressed  his 
cap  over  his  eyes  and  silently  joined  the  train.  The  mighty 
Pe  Ontjes  went  by  his  side. 

Heinke  and  Anna,  who  had  been  with  the  old  man,  looked 
out  from  the  window.  The  custom  for  women  to  go  to  funer- 
als is  only  finding  its  way  very  gradually  here. 

What  more  is  there  to  say?  The  warm,  heavy  May  rain 
fell  into  his  open  grave.  New  corn  is  springing  up.  Men  will 
grow  up  to  care  for  the  highest  in  humanity,  to  fight  for  it  in 
deed  and  thought. 


THE    END. 


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,  ELEANOR  H.   PORTER 
POLLYANNA:   The  GLAD  Book  (250.000) 

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MISS  BILLY  (i3th  Printing) 

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"  There  is  something  altogether  fascinating  about  '  Miss 
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By  "  ELEANOR  STUART." 

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THE  CAREER  OF  DOCTOR  WEAVER 

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of  the  story  is  the  way  its  author  has  torn  aside  the  curtain 
and  revealed  certain  phases  of  the  relation  between  the  med- 
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THE  ROSE  OF  ROSES 

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SYLVIA'S  EXPERIMENT:    The  Cheerful  Book 

By  MARGARET  R.  PIPER.  Tr.de—          —Mark 

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MISS  MADELYN  MACK,  DETECTIVE 

By  HUGH  C.  WEIR. 

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THEODORE  GOODR1DGE  ROBERTS 

THE  HARBOR  MASTER 

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painting  by  John  Goss.         Net,  $1.25;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 

The  salt  of  the  sea  is  in  every  chapter.    From  start  to  finish 

the  story  thrills  with  its  action  and  clear  presentation  of  life  in 

the  open."  —  Kansas  City  Star. 

RAYTON:  A  Backwoods  Mystery 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  John  Goss. 

Net,  $1.25;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 

"  The  story  has  plenty  of  action,  breathes  of  the  fresh  fields 
and  forests  of  New  Brunswick,  and  presents  life  in  all  its  health 
and  vigor."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

A  CAPTAIN   OF  RALEIGH'S 

Cloth  decorative,  with  a  frontispiece  in  full  color  from  a  paint- 
ing by  John  Goss       .        .  $1.50 

"  A  strong,  straightforward  tale  of  love  and  adventure,  well 
worth  reading."  —  Springfield  Union. 

A  CAVALIER  OF  VIRGINIA 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Louis  D.  Gowing       .     $1.50 

"  The  action  is  always  swift  and  romantic  and  the  love  is  of 

the  kind  that  thrills  the  reader.    The  characters  are  admirably 

drawn  and  the  reader  follows  with  deep  interest  the  adventures 

of  the  two  young  people."  —  Baltimore  Sun. 

HEMMING,  THE  ADVENTURER 

Cloth  decorative,  with  six  illustrations  by  A.  G.  Larned. 

$1.50 

"  Its  ease  of  style,  its  rapidity,  its  interest  from  page  to  page, 
are  admirable;  and  it  shows  that  inimitable  power  —  the  story 
teller's  gift  of  verisimilitude."  —  The  Reader. 

BROTHERS   OF  PERIL 

Cloth  decorative,  with  four  illustrations  in  color  by  H.  C. 

Edwards $1.50 

A  tale  of  Newfoundland  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  of  the 
now  extinct  Beothic  Indians  who  lived  there. 

"  An  original  and  absorbing  story.  A  dashing  story  with  a 
historical  turn.  There  is  no  lack  of  excitement  or  action  in  it, 
all  being  described  in  vigorous,  striking  style."  —  Boston  Tran- 
script. 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


WORKS  OF 

CHARLES  G.  D.  ROBERTS 

HAUNTERS  OF  THE  SILENCES 

Goth,  one  volume,  with  many  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston 
Bull,  four  of  which  are  in  full  color        ....      $2.00 
The  stories  in  Mr.  Roberta's  new  collection  are  the  strongest  and 
best  he  has  ever  written. 

He  has  largely  taken  for  his  subjects  those  animals  rarely  met 
with  in  books,  whose  lives  are  spent "  In  the  Silences,"  where  they 
are  the  supreme  rulers.  Mr.  Roberts  has  written  of  them  sympa- 
thetically, as  always,  but  with  fine  regard  for  the  scientific  truth. 
"  As  a  writer  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an  enviable 
place.  He  is  the  most  literary,  as  well  as  the  most  imaginative 
and  vivid  of  all  the  nature  writers."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

RED  FOX 

THE  STORT  OF  His  ADVENTUROUS  CAREER  IN  THE  RINGWAAK 
WILDS,  AND  OF  His  FINAL  TRIUMPH  OVER  THE  ENEMIES  OF 
His  KIND.  With  fifty  illustrations,  including  frontispiece  in 
color  and  cover  design  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

Square  quarto,  cloth  decorative $2.00 

"  True  in  substance  but  fascinating  as  fiction.  It  will  interest 
old  and  young,  city-bound  and  free-footed,  those  who  know  ani- 
mals ana  those  who  do  not."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  A  brilliant  chapter  in  natural  history."  —  Philadelphia  North 
American. 

THE  KINDRED  OF  THE  WILD 

A  BOOK  OF  ANIMAL  LIFE.  With  fifty-one  full-page  plates  and 
many  decorations  from  drawings  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull 

Square  quarto,  decorative  cover $2.00 

"  Is  hi  many  ways  the  most  brilliant  collection  of  animal  stories 

that  has  appeared;   well  named  and  well  done."  —  John  Bur* 

roughs. 

THE  WATCHERS  OF  THE  TRAILS 

A  companion  volume  to  "  The  Kindred  of  the  W?Id."    With 
forty-eight  full-page  plates  and  many  decorations  from  draw- 
ings by  Charles  Livingston  Bull. 
Square  quarto,  decorative  cover     .«•.*.•     $2.00 


THE  PAGE    COMPANY'S 


11  These  stories  are  exquisite  in  their  refinement,  and  yet  robust 
in  their  appreciation  of  some  of  the  rougher  phases  of  woodcraft. 
Among  the  many  writers  about  animals,  Mr.  Roberts  occupies  an 
enviable  place."  —  The  Outlook. 

"  This  is  a  book  full  of  delight.  An  additional  charm  lies  in  Mr. 
Bull's  faithful  and  graphic  illustrations,  which  in  fashion  all  theii 
own  tell  the  story  of  the  wild  life,  illuminating  and  supplementing 
the  pen  pictures  of  the  author."  —  Literary  Digest. 

THE  HOUSE  IN  THE  WATER 

With  thirty  full-page  illustrations  by  Charles  Livingston  Bull 
and  Frank  Vining  Smith.  Cover  design  and  decorations  by 
Charles  Livingston  Bull. 

12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

"  Every  paragraph  is  a  splendid  picture,  suggesting  in  a  few 

words  the  appeal  of  the  vast,   illimitable  wilderness."  —  The 

Chicago  Tribune. 

TFE  HEART  THAT  KNOWS 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover   .       .       .  $1.50 

"  A  Dovet  of  singularly  effective  strength,  luminous  in  literary 

color,  rich  in  its  passionate,  yet  tender  drama." — New  York  Globe. 

EARTH'S  ENIGMAS 

A  new  edition  of  Mr.  Roberta's  first  volume  of  fiction,  pub- 
lished in  1892,  and  out  of  print  for  several  years,  with  the  addi- 
tion of  three  new  stories,  and  ten  illustrations  by  Charles 
Livingston  Bull. 

Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover   .       .       .  $1.50 

"  It  will  rank  high  among  collections  of  short  stories.  In 
'  Earth's  Enigmas  '  is  a  wider  range  of  subject  than  in  the  '  Kin- 
dred of  the  Wild.'  "  —  Review  from  advance  sheets  of  the  illustrated 
edition  by  Tiffany  Blake  in  the  Chicago  Evening  Post. 

BARBARA  LADD 

With  four  illustrations  by  Frank  Verbeck. 
Library  12mo,  cloth,  decorative  cover  ....     $1.50 
"  From  the  opening  chapter  to  the  final  page  Mr.  Roberts  lures 
us  on  by  his  rapt  devotion  to  the  changing  aspects  of  Nature  and 
by  his  keen  and  sympathetic  analysis  of  human  character."—* 
Boston  Transcript. 


LIST  OF  FICTTOff 


CAMERON   OF    LOCHIEL 

Translated  from  the  French  of  Philippe  Aubert  de  Gaspe1,  with 

frontispiece  in  color  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative       .       .       .  .      $1.50 

"  Professor  Roberts  deserves  the  thanks  of  his  reader  for  giving 
a  wider  audience  an  opportunity  to  enjoy  this  striking  bit  of 
French  Canadian  literature."  —  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

THE    PRISONER    OF    MADEMOISELLE 

With  frontispiece  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

A  tale  of  Acadia,  —  a  land  which  is  the  author's  heart's  delight, 

—  of  a  valiant  young  lieutenant  and  a  winsome  maiden,  who  first 

captures  and  then  captivates. 

THE  HEART  OF  THE  ANCIENT  WOOD 

With  six  illustrations  by  James  L.  Weston. 

Library  12mo,  decorative  cover       .....      $1.50 

*'  One  of  the  most  fascinating  novels  of  recent  days."  —  Boston 
Journal. 

"  A  classic  twentieth-century  romance."  —  New  York  Commer- 
cial Advertiser. 

THE    FORGE    IN    THE    FOREST 

Being  the  Narrative  of  the  Acadian  Ranger,  Jean  de  Mer, 
Seigneur  de  Briart,  and  how  he  crossed  the  Black  Abbe",  and 
of  his  adventures  in  a  strange  fellowship,  Illustrated  by  Henry 
Sandham,  R.  C.  A. 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative $1.50 

A  story  of  pure  love  and  heroic  adventure. 

BY    THE   MARSHES   OF    MINAS 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated  .  .  $1.50 
Most  of  these  romances  are  in  the  author's  lighter  and  more 

playful  vein;   each  is  a  unit  of  absorbing  interest  and  exquisite 

workmanship. 

A   SISTER    TO   EVANGELINE 

Being  the  Story  of  Yvonne  de  Lamourie,  and  how  she  went  into 
exile  with  the  villagers  of  Grand  Pre\ 

Library  12mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated    .       .       .      $1.50 
Swift  action,  fresh  atmosphere,  wholesome  purity,  deep  pas- 
sion, and  searching  analysis  characterize  this  strong  novel. 


I0  THE  PAGE   COMPANY'S 

WORKS  OF 

NATHAN  GALLIZIER 

THE  SORCERESS   OF  ROME 

Cloth  decorative,  with  four  drawings  in  color  by  "  The  Kin- 

neys"    ....  $1.50 

The  love-story  of  Otto  III.,  the  boy  emperor,  and  Stephania, 
wife  of  the  Senator  Creseentius  of  Rome. 

CASTEL  DEL  MONTE 

Cloth  decorative,  with  six  drawings  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

$1.50 
A  romance  of  the  fall  of  the  Hohenstaufen  dynasty  hi  Italy. 

THE  COURT  OF  LUCIFER 

Cloth  decorative,  with  four  drawings  in  color  by  "  The  Kin- 

neys" $1.50 

An  historical  romance  woven  around  the  famous  Borgia 
family. 

THE  HILL  OF  VENUS 

Cloth  decorative,  with  four  drawings  in  color  by  Edmund  H. 
Garrett.  Net,  $1.35;  carriage  paid,  $1.50 

This  is  a  vivid  and  powerful  romance  of  the  thirteenth  century 
in  the  times  of  the  great  Ghibelline  wars. 

WORKS  OF 

HELEN  M.  WINSLOW 

THE  PLEASURING  OF  SUSAN  SMITH 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Jessie  Gillespie. 

Net,  $1.00;  carriage  paid,  $1.15 

"  One  is  glad  to  recommend  this  book  to  folk  who  care  for 
romance,  humor  and  good  sense,  simplicity  and  brevity  aa 
quite  the  sort  of  reading  they  are  sure  to  like  by  way  of  enter- 
tainment." —  Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

PEGGY  AT   SPINSTER  FARM 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Mary  G.  Huntsman  .      $1.50 

"  Very  alluring  is  the  picture  she  draws  of  the  old-fashioned 

house,  the  splendid  old  trees,  the  pleasant  walks,  the  gorgeoua 

sunsets,  and  —  or  it  would  not  be  Helen  Winslow  —  the  cats.'! 

—  The  Boston  Transcript. 


LIST  OF  FICTION'  u 

WORKS  OF 

ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS 

Each  one  volume,  library  I2mo,  cloth  decorative     .       .     $1.50 

THE  FLIGHT  OF  GEORGIANA 

A  ROMANCE  OF  THE  DAYS  OP  THE  YOUNG  PRETENDER.  Illus- 
trated by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

"  A  love-story  in  the  highest  degree,  a  dashing  story,  and  a 
remarkably  well  finished  piece  of  work."  —  Chicago  Record- 
Herald. 

THE  BRIGHT  FACE  OF  DANGER 

Being  an  account  of  some  adventures  of  Henri  de  Launay,  son 
of  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.  Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
"  Mr.  Stephens  has  fairly  outdone  himself.  We  thank  him 

heartily.    The  story  is  nothing  if  not  spirited  and  entertaining, 

rational  and  convincing."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  MURRAY  DAVENPORT 

(40th  thousand.) 

"  This  is  easily  the  best  thing  that  Mr.  Stephens  has  yet  done. 
Those  familiar  with  his  other  novels  can  best  judge  the  measure 
of  this  praise,  which  is  generous."  —  Buffalo  News. 

CAPTAIN  RAVENSHAW 

OR,  THE  MAID  OP  CHEAPSIDE.     (52d  thousand.)    A  romance 

of  Elizabethan  London.     Illustrations  by  Howard  Pyle  and 

other  artists. 

Not  since  the  absorbing  adventures  of  D'Artagnan  have  we 
had  anything  so  good  in  the  blended  vein  of  romance  and  comedy. 

"  The  story  proceeds  with  a  rapidity  which  holds  the  attention 
of  the  reader  from  the  start  to  the  finish.  The  characters  are 
well  portrayed  with  a  vividness  only  found  in  this  well-known 
author."  —  The  Waterbury  Democrat. 

"  It  is  a  work  of  fiction  well  worth  reading,  and  once  read  it  is 
not  easily  forgotten."  —  Common  Sense  Magazine,  Chicago. 

THE  CONTINENTAL  DRAGOON 

A  ROMANCE  OF  PHILIPSE  MANOR  HOUSE  IN  1778.     (53d 

thousand.)    Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

A  stirring  romance  of  the  Revolution,  with  its  scenes  laid  on 
neutral  territory. 

"  One  of  the  most  delightful  stories  we  have  had  for  many  a 
day."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 


I2  THE    PAGE   COMPANY'S 

PHILIP  WINWOOD 

(70th  thousand.)  A  Sketch  of  the  Domestic  History  of  an 
American  Captain  in  the  War  of  Independence,  embracing 
events  that  occurred  between  and  during  the  years  1763  and 
1785  in  New  York  and  London.  Illustrated  by  E.  W.  D. 
Hamilton. 

AN  ENEMY  TO  THE  KING 

(70th  thousand.)    Illustrated  by  H.  De  M.  Young. 

An  historical  romance  of  the  sixteenth  century,  describing  the 
adventures  of  a  young  French  nobleman  at  the  court  of  Henry 
III.,  and  on  the  field  with  Henry  IV. 

THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS 

A  STORY  OF  ADVENTURE.  (35th  thousand.)  Illustrated  by 
H.  C.  Edwards. 

An  historical  romance  of  the  eighteenth  century,  being  an 
account  of  the  life  of  an  American  gentleman  adventurer. 

A  GENTLEMAN  PLAYER 

His  ADVENTURES  ON  A  SECRET  MISSION  FOR  QUEEN  ELIZA- 
'BETH.     (48th  thousand.)     Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
The  story  of  a  young  gentleman  who  joins  Shakespeare's 
company  of  players,  and  becomes  a  prote'ge'  of  the  great  poet. 

CLEMENTINA'S  HIGHWAYMAN 

Illustrated  by  A.  Everhart. 

The  story  is  laid  in  the  mid-Georgian  period.  It  is  a  dashing, 
sparkling,  vivacious  comedy. 

TALES  FROM  BOHEMIA 

Illustrated  by  Wallace  Goldsmith. 

These  bright  and  clever  tales  deal  with  people  of  the  theatre  and 
odd  characters  in  other  walks  of  life  which  fringe  on  Bohemia. 

A  SOLDIER  OF  VALLEY  FORGE 

By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS  AND  THEODORE  GOODRIDGE 
ROBERTS. 

With  frontispiece  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

"  The  plot  shows  invention  and  is  developed  with  originality, 
and  there  is  incident  in  abundance."  —  Brooklyn  Times. 

THE  SWORD  OF  BUSSY 

By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS  AND  HERMAN  NICKERSON. 

With  frontispiece  by  Edmund  H.  Garrett. 

Net,  $1.25;  carriage  paid,  $1.40 

"  The  plot  is  lively,  dashing  and  fascinating,  the  very  kind 
of  a  story  that  one  does  not  want  to  stop  reading  until  it  is 
finished."  —  Boston  Herald. 


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